


Legends of Badal'Shari: The Song of Souls (revised edition)

by Arcaniel



Series: The Legends of Badal'Shari [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Adventure, Fantasy, M/M, Male Slash, Music, Science Fiction, Shounen-ai, Slash, Slavery, arabian nights -free form
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 14:12:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 52,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16220735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arcaniel/pseuds/Arcaniel
Summary: Please note: this is the revised edition of this story. The original version will not be continued.To secure his poor family's well-being, young bard Shanar sells himself into indentured servitude for a decade. He is bought for the palace and ends up in the service to the Lord's only heir, Prince Arevan.  As Shanar and Arevan slowly grow closer over time, a dark cospiracy threatens Arevan's ascension to the throne - and his life. Both are forced to make some drastic decisions to save the city and their loved ones, even venturing out into the territories of an unknown enemy...This story takes place in the same world as "The End of all Stories", 37 years earlier.





	1. Lost

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Legends of Badal'Shari: The Song of Souls (original edition)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6977809) by [Arcaniel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arcaniel/pseuds/Arcaniel). 



> Dear readers, please note that is is the revised edition of "The Song of Souls". If you have read the original edition so far, please start anew with this version. I've made some major changes to the way the story is told, and it is structured very differently, so you can't continue where you left the original story. I hope you like the new one as well and be so kind as to leave some comments. The original version will stay online for the moment, but will not be continued. Thank you so much for your patience!
> 
> Dear new readers, welcome to this story!

The great hall was quiet. If there were screams of dying people outside or the crashing sound of burning houses falling down, they didn't penetrate the thick walls of the palace. No one was left alive inside; every inhabitant had either fled or, if less fortunate, had been killed. 

No one except for two men. One was lying among the fallen soldiers, his comrades, the other slumped over the throne. Both were slowly coming to again.

"My lord," the soldier on the floor croaked while trying to lift himself up. A deep wound in his abdomen promised a certain death sooner or later. "My lord, I'm so sorry. We couldn't protect you..."

"It's not your fault, old friend," the lord replied hoarsely. His gold embroidered tunic was soaked through with blood as well although he tried to stench the flow. He could barely breathe. "We didn't see them coming. You and your men did everything you could. But my family - could they flee?"

"Yes, my lord," the other man answered with a cough. "Two soldiers escorted your wife and son through the secret back door. I'm sure they will be safe. Your gods will protect them."

"My gods..." The lord's bitter laugh dissolved into a shaken sigh. "They deserted us. I should have known. Building this city inside enemy territory - it was Father's crazy dream. Sooner or later the sessera would stop tolerating us here.They just waited long enough for us to feel safe, build this prosperous city - and then attack once we let our guard down."

The soldier stayed quiet.

After a moment, the lord continued, "I always knew who you and your people where. And they killed you as well. As I said, it's not your fault." He took a deep, labored breath. "What about your family? Do you think they made it?"

"My father-in-law is a clever man," the soldier replied. "He will protect my wife. I just regret... that I won't see our child. It is due any day now."

"Maybe my gods aren't that cruel and grant at least our children long, happy lives... elsewhere," the lord murmured, closing his eyes. "And maybe... they make better choices... than their... ancestors."

With a clutter, the sword he had still clutched fell from his bloody hand.

The soldier mustered his final reserves of strength and crawled forward until he had reached his lord's throne. "May your Goddess of Heaven welcome you... in her realm," he whispered as he took up the sword. He couldn't read the words inscribed in its blade, but he knew them by heart. It was a prophecy that his lord's father had received from a priest long ago. It said, " Hold me and you hold everything. Lose me, and you lose... "  Everything . The last word was missing; the sword's tip had broken off while the lord had been striking at the enemy leader. With a cruel laugh, the leader had taken the tip as a trophy as he had left.

The soldier carefully pulled out a lose stone right behind the throne that hid a secret compartment; the usual place to store the sword when it wasn't worn. He barely managed to put the sword into it, but pushing the stone back into place was beyond him. With a groan, the soldier fell down next to his lord. 

Not able to open his eyes again, he noticed light footsteps coming closer. A familiar hand touched his brow, soft words were whispered in his mother's tongue. He managed to answer a few words before he, too, succumbed to his wound.

Then there was only silence again in the great hall. Outside, the city was burning.

 

 


	2. Prologue - A golden Cage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear readers, I was overwhelmed by all your comments! I'm so grateful that you've kept faith with me after a year of silence. Here's the next part for you. I have no fixed update schedule and will be away for some days, so please don't expect another update for about two weeks.

Shanar loved the early morning when the suns had barely started to crawl over the horizon. The sky still had a deep shade of blue with some stars thrown in, and the daily bustling life at the palace and in the city of Al'Menara had not yet started. Everything was quiet except for some birds chirping.  
Shanar opened the wooden lattice door leading to the small balcony of his room and looked down into the inner courtyard below. A bunch of little blue birds were sitting in the trees, others bathed in the tiled fountain located in the center.  
With a small prayer of thanks to Shariha, the Mother of Heavens, Shanar took a few deep breaths and enjoyed the light morning breeze before he took his lute and started to play. He was careful not to play too loudly, although the only other person close enough to hear him would probably sleep even deeper if he heard him. With a smile, Shanar started to sing softly. It was one of the many songs he had learned from his grandfather. Shanar could almost hear him accompany him as he went through the familiar words. 

Sing, my bird, sitting on a tree  
Sing for me of freedom  
Sing, my bird, flying through the skies  
Wings stretched, feathers bright

Sing, my bird, in a golden cage  
Sing for me of longing  
Sing, my bird, in a golden cage  
Clipped wings on your back

Sing, my bird, in a golden cage  
Sing for me of heartbreak  
Sing, my bird, in a golden cage  
You will never fly

Thinking about his long-dead grandfather wasn't as painful as thinking about his still-living family. Try as he might, these early morning hours were also the ones when he missed his siblings the most. Back in their days together, Shanar and his eldest sister would have gone up to make breakfast and clean up the little house, then wake the younger children. Afterward, Shanar would leave to go to his usual place at the fountain of the southern quarter market to earn his family's living with his songs. In the evening, he would return with some money and often some leftover fruits or bread from friendly merchants. They had been poor, but had gotten by somehow. Until that fateful day that had changed everything…  
"Shanar?"  
Pulled out of his memories, Shanar turned his head to see his master, Prince Arevan, stand on the balcony adjoining his own. He was still in his nightshirt, the soft light of the rising suns letting his bright-red hair glow like a fire. Arevan stretched himself. "You haven't played that song for a while. It's rather sad."  
"I'm sorry. I'll play something more cheerful later," Shanar replied. "But now, I'll get your breakfast, your Highness. We have a long day ahead."  
"Don't remind me," Arevan sighed. "Lessons in History, an audience with my grandfather and his councilors for some politics lessons, and in the afternoon weapons training. At least one thing to look forward to."  
Both exited the balcony to return inside. Shanar carefully placed his lute on the desk, left his own, simple room and stepped into Arevan's lavishly decorated quarters. Like every morning, a tray with an array of fruits, sweet, warm buns fresh out of the oven, and a pot of tea was waiting on a little table outside the main door. Shanar fetched it and placed it on a small table surrounded by sitting cushions.   
Arevan tucked in like the healthy growing youth he was while Shanar went to make his master's bed and put out his clothes for the day. They were finished about the same time; Shanar quickly poured himself a cup of tea and ate the rest of the food. It was of course unthinkable for master and servant to eat together, and Shanar often missed the meals together with his family. This was all about a quick, efficient food intake.  
Arevan had gone out again on the balcony which was now bathed in full sunlight. "Weapons training will be fun today," he remarked. "It's perfect weather. I'll wipe the floor with you again!"  
"Only in your dreams, your Highness!" Shanar replied, stuffing the last piece of bun into his mouth. "You still haven't got the range."  
"I have! I'm almost as tall as you now," Arevan declared, turning around. "I'm not a kid anymore that needs to look up to you."  
"You're not yet as tall as me yet," Shanar replied with a smile. Their constant training had made them excellent fighters, although Shanar had huge problems keeping up with Arevan lately. He had been growing really quickly and had also learned the use of his new, longer limbs, skipping the typical ungainliness of youth. Instead, there was a certain, efficient grace to the way he moved, like a predator on the prowl. His broadening shoulders and large hands suggested he would continue to grow for quite some time, surely getting far taller than Shanar who wasn't exactly a small man. "But now you should get dressed - and then for some lessons in History."  
Arevan scowled at the prospect, and Shanar had to smile even more. Arevan had always hated studying from books; some things definitely hadn't changed. 

~>*<~

"Shanar, hurry up!"  
"Right behind you, your Highness," Shanar replied, quickly grabbing a bit of string to tie his long, dark-brown hair back so it wouldn't fall into his eyes during the training. They had just gotten up from a little break after lunch, and he was still a bit tired.   
Together, they ran down a set of hallways towards the training area that was set in one of the many open courtyards of the palace. Master Asnam was already there, waiting for them. Although he wasn't a soldier, but the head of the palace's household servants, he had been assigned to train Arevan - and Shanar as well. After some severe incidents, they had found it prudent that Shanar, being constantly by Arevan's side as his body servant and teacher, would also be able to serve as a bodyguard.  
Over the rainy-seasons, Asnam had taught them numerous fighting techniques with swords and shields, spears, and bows. Shooting was the only discipline in which Shanar was still ahead of Arevan, joking that he had a natural talent with stringed instruments of all sorts. Lately, Asnam made them train in dueling with quarter-staffs. It was not so much useful in an actual fight as it was a good training method for concentration and coordination. The staff was a weapon and a tool of defense at the same time, demanding equal strength and agility with both arms.  
They took their training weapons and positioned themselves opposite each other. Arevan was grinning, no doubt hoping to send Shanar face first into the sand. But Shanar wasn't about to make it easy for him.  
They began, attacking and evading each other, while Asnam shouted various commands and corrections. "Your Highness, don't forget your footwork! You're still too slow! - Shanar, keep your left arm higher or he will get through your defense!"  
The opponents, however, only listened half-heartedly. Arevan, headstrong as ever, could not tolerate to be defeated by his servant, while Shanar had developed a certain pride as well and wasn't about to let a boy ten rainy-seasons his junior win just like that. Luck, however, wasn't with him today. As Shanar took a step back, Arevan took the chance to unexpectedly strike against his legs, making him loose balance. While falling backwards, Shanar managed to hook his foot around Arevan's ankle and let him tumble down as well. They fell into the sand on top of each other, wind knocked out of their lungs.  
"Good strike, your Highness! - Shanar, underhanded methods might be the last resort, but they have no place in a fair fight!", Asnam scolded. "I think I taught you better than that! Apologize!"  
"I'm... sorry, your... Highness," Shanar croaked, barely able to breathe. Arevan was lying heavily on top of him, legs to both sides, face flushed as he looked down at Shanar, their noses almost touching.  
"It's... it's alright," he stammered. "Neat trick." Quickly, he rose, giving Shanar some space to catch his breath.   
"Get back to your starting positions," Asnam ordered as Shanar got up to his feet as well. As he looked at Arevan, he was still flushed as if he had been out in the suns for too long although the temperature was mild and gentle with the beginning Sowing-Time.

~>*<~

Shanar was worried by the end of the lesson. Arevan had been distracted, keeping a certain distance between them while getting scolded by Asnam for not concentrating properly. Arevan still looked somehow flushed.   
"Your Highness, are you feeling alright?" Shanar asked as they walked back to their quarters. "You look a bit feverish."  
"It's nothing," Arevan replied stiffly. "I'm not ill."  
Shanar still wasn't convinced. He stopped and reached up to touch Arevan's forehead, but Arevan jerked away. "Stop it, will you? I'm alright! I'll go and take a cold bath."  
"After sweating outside the whole afternoon? I don't think so, your Highness," Shanar replied sternly. "Then you'll catch a fever for sure. Come on, I'll prepare a warm bath for you and some cold cloths for your face."  
Grumbling, Arevan complied. They reached the prince's private bathing chamber after a few turns along the corridors. Even after all this time, Shanar was still amazed by the fact that the palace had a system of running water. By turning the silvery heads of some stylized metal birds, fresh, cool water from an underground depot ran into the tiled basin. While they waited for the basin to get filled, Shanar started to help Arevan undress. He removed his boots and belt, but when he pulled at his shirt, Arevan stopped him. "I think I'm old enough now to do that myself," he murmured.   
Shanar shrugged. "As you wish, your Highness." While Arevan undressed, he went to fetch various scented oils and soaps as well as fresh towels and cloths from a nearly cupboard. The prince sank into the lukewarm water with a contented sigh, closing his eyes. Shanar knelt next to his head, putting a cool, scented cloth on his brow.  
"Feeling better?" he asked.  
Arevan gave an affirmative grunt and leaned back. Shanar smiled and began undressing himself. Since the basin was huge enough to admit half a dozen people, it had proved to be the easiest way. Arevan had always hated water and getting cleaned up, but it had gotten easier over the seasons. He still complained about getting soap into his eyes while Shanar washed his hair, however.  
Now he actually jumped when Shanar touched his shoulder. Quickly, Arevan took the cloth off his face and stared at Shanar. "What are you doing?"  
"What I'm always doing. Now turn around so I can wash your hair."  
"Give me the soap and I'll do it myself!" the prince growled, inching away from him. "Stop mothering me! As I said, I'm not a child anymore!"  
Shanar held up his hands in defeat. "As you wish. Do you want a massage afterward?"  
"No! Listen, I'm tired and I want to be left alone! Get out, Shanar!" Arevan's angry words echoed from the tiled walls.  
Shanar looked at him in astonishment. He was used to childish tantrums, but this kind of raw anger was new and somehow frightening with those reddish-golden eyes flashing at him like a wild animal's. There was definitely something wrong.   
"As you command, your Highness," he replied quietly and stepped out of the basin. Something made him turn his head, however, and he saw Arevan quickly looking away, putting the cloth on his reddened face once again.   
Now, Shanar started to get a faint idea about what might be going on with Arevan. He definitely needed someone to ask for advice.

~>*<~

After Arevan had eaten his dinner and wanted to be left alone once more, Shanar left to talk to Master Asnam and his best friend Sharistani, Asnam's mistress.  
Sharistani opened the door when he knocked, inviting him into Asnam's and her quarters. Her beautiful smile soothed Shanar's somewhat frayed nerves about today's event. "Shanar, you looked worried. What is it?" she asked, getting serious at his solemn face.  
"I need to talk to Master Asnam, and I think it would be a good idea to get a woman's opinion on the matter as well." Shanar replied.  
She nodded. "Of course. Come on in."  
She led him into a small parlor with a beautiful view over the city. Asnam was reading by soft lamplight, looking relaxed. His eyes were as alert and sharp as ever, however, when he noticed Shanar.  
"Is something wrong with the Prince?" he demanded. "Go on, sit down and talk."  
Shanar took a seat on a set of thick cushions, gratefully accepting a cup of fruit wine Sharistani offered to him.   
"You noticed how strange he behaved today, didn't you, Master?" he asked.  
Asnam nodded. "I've never seen him this distracted."  
Shanar took a sip of his cup, trying to find a way to breach this subject delicately. "I think he's starting to become a man," he finally said. "He refused any kind of service from me afterward and shied away from my touch. I guess it's become awkward for him to be served by another man. Maybe it's time to find a suitable woman to be his personal servant. I mean... I don't know how things are handled here at the palace. But the Prince is a good-looking youth, and it would be a great honor for anyone."  
"I thought the same thing," Asnam replied. "But there is no official protocol for such situations. The Sovereign is surely already thinking about a suitable match for his grandson and heir as soon as the Prince comes of age. He's going to marry someone from the three main noble families, as it is tradition, or even the daughter of an influential family from one of the other cities to strengthen our good relationships with them. But before that... Well, young men are expected to make experiences that don't leave any awkward reminders." He leaned forward in his chair, seizing Shanar up. "In one thing, however I think you're mistaken. Prince Arevan isn't repulsed by your touch. I think he started to see you with very different eyes today when he was lying on top of you."  
Sharistani stifled a giggle. "Is that true?"  
Shanar frowned. "What do you mean?"  
Asnam raised an eyebrow. "Shanar, I didn't think you to be that stupid. You're his only companion and confidante, the only one constantly close to him. Frankly speaking, I had expected him to react to you far sooner."  
For the first time in seasons, Shanar felt a blush creep up his cheeks and was glad his skin color hid his embarrassment. "You must be mistaken," he murmured, taking another sip to calm his nerves. "I'm his teacher and servant, his slave. I care for him like an older brother would. And besides, I'm ten rainy-seasons older than him!"  
"The Prince is not a little child anymore although you still look at him as if he were," Sharistani gently cut in. "But that doesn't mean that he still cares for you the same way."  
"You are his teacher, as you said yourself," Asnam said. "Teach him. You have proved yourself to be loyal. Do you really want the Prince to become infatuated with someone who's going to take advantage of him or force him to adopt a bastard child? I think this will be an ideal arrangement until the Prince marries."  
Shanar didn't know what else to say to protest any further. Even if he considered this, how could he teach something he had not much experience with himself? Ever since he had been old enough to think about intimacy, he had been too occupied with feeding his family. Later, there had been some quick kisses and awkward fumbling with giddy young women in the nights of the Stargazing Festival when darkness had hidden his appearance. And after that... Nasty gazes from even nastier men in the hallways of the castle. Shanar still shuddered when he thought of what had almost happened one time.  
No, this was all wrong. Arevan was dear like a brother to him, like family. It felt indecent. And seeing Arevan as a child was also a kind of protective mechanism. Shanar was somehow afraid of what kind of adult would be replacing his sweet, little, innocent prince.  
"I... will think about this," he finally murmured. "Or is this an order, Master?"  
Asnam shook his head. "No, of course not. You have to do what you think is right."  
Shanar just nodded. Doing the right thing although it might be a hard choice was something he had lots of experience with, after all.


	3. Chapter 1 - Mourning

 

_~ Six rainy-seasons ago ~_

 

It was already dark when Shanar finally packed up his lute and left usual place at the south market. He had once again stayed longer than usual at his customary spot at the old well to earn as much money as possible. His audience was getting scarcer every day because of the almost unbearable heat. Draught-time was the most difficult time before the next rainy-season, starting with rain-time, began. Shanar was also reminded of his parents' death during that time, making him even more miserable. He wished for the rain to start with all his heart, but it would still take a few weeks. Until then, he had to get by with his meager earnings to feed his siblings.

The bazaar was still open since the merchants had the same problem with selling their wares as Shanar had with selling his songs and ballads. Attuned to sensing a chance in people's moods around him, Shanar immediately noticed that there was something going on. The merchants had started to whisper, shooting worried gazes across the place.

"Master Kasrim, what's happening?" Shanar asked, stepping over to the friendly old merchant's fruit stall. "Is there an attack on the wall again?"

"It's even worse," Kasrim murmured, worriedly stroking his gray beard. "They say that the Sovereign's heir was killed! Apparently, he was just visiting his cousin Yahezid, the commander of the narif'adir, at the wall when a group of sessera attacked! They say that Prince Haruf was killed by a black spear through his heart!"

"May Shariha take his soul into her realm of stars," Shanar prayed softly. This was terrible news. The whole city would be in mourning, and all business would come to a halt for days. Sovereign Kahil Menar, ruler of Al'Menara, was known to be a just and strong leader, but he was getting old. All hope had been on Prince Haruf, said to be a level-headed character, to continue the line. Now, no one knew what would happen.

Shanar tried to remember what he knew of the Menar family. Haruf had been Sovereign Kahil's only son. Haruf's cousin Yahezid, son of Kahil's deceased younger brother and commander of the narif'adir, was a hard man, raised to fight, not to rule. Shanar particularly loathed him for being the one to deny his family any support after their father's death although their father had been a loyal soldier of the narif'adir until the end. If he only hadn't fallen off the wall in drunken despair over his wife's death...

Now, the only remaining candidate in direct line for the Sovereign's throne was Haruf's young son Arevan, a child of just seven rainy-seasons. If Sovereign Kahil died before the boy came of age, chaos would rule.

"Shanar, care for something to wet your throat?" Kasrim asked, pulling Shanar out of his thoughts. "I'll close up for today, and I have some nice green waterberries left. They will be spoiled tomorrow."

"You're very kind, Master Kasrim," Shanar replied. "May I take some berries with me, for my family?"

"Of course! And remember, my offer still stands - if you can pay the dowry, my younger son will be happy to marry your sister next sowing-time," Kasrim replied with a smile.

Shanar nodded. For the last four rainy-seasons, he had been thinking of nothing but the dowry. His eldest sister Alia had just turned fifteen rainy-seasons and was therefore old enough to marry. Kasrim's offer was very generous - his younger son Sehan would get a small stall of his own to start a business at the city's south gate. Considering the low status of Shanar's family, it would be the best Alia could ever hope for. She also genuinely liked Sehan - and by the gods, Shanar would make it possible. He was just two goldsuns short for the dowry. As soon as Alia was married, he could start saving up for his second oldest sister, Nimi, who wanted to join the temple of Shariha as a priestess. It would be even more expensive, but he would try.

Shanar ate a few of the already overripe waterberries, savoring the sweet taste. The smaller children would be overjoyed to get some of the berries for dinner. He thanked Kasrim and went home, and although he was glad about the extra ration of food, his heart even more full of worry than usual.

The little house he shared with his siblings lay just a few streets away in one of the poorer parts of the city. Alia had heard the news from their neighbors already, their version of the Prince's gruesome death even more terrible. They didn't talk about it in front of the younger children, although Nimi was old enough to understand what was going on. After she, the youngest girl Jeana, and the two small twin boys, Akil and Siran, had gone to sleep, Shanar and Alia stayed awake, talking.

"You just have to try again and again for a good position at a noble's house or a guild," Alia said, a frown on her pretty face. "You will get your chance, I know it! You're a wonderful musician. A talent as great as yours won't go unnoticed. It's not your fate to sing on the streets forever."

"And how, pray tell, should my talent be noticed if those people do not even give me a chance to play just one tune, sing just one song?" Shanar replied tiredly. "All they see is the color of my eyes when I walk in, and that is enough. All this city cares about is heritage and honor. Talent doesn't count, Alia. I'm just glad that you and the little ones are no mehan'murad like I am."

"Don't call yourself by this horrible name!" Alia chided and grabbed his hands. Her beautiful auburn eyes suddenly held a fire of righteous fury. "You're much more worth than any other man in this city. And I'll always be proud to call you my beloved brother! You took care of me and the little ones for all those rainy-seasons since our parents died, working day and night for the family! You even talked the authorities out of separating us and putting us into an orphanage, remember? The boys were just one rainy-season old, little more than babies. You've been our father and mother ever since, although you were barely old enough yourself. I've never seen anyone stronger in my life, Shanar. And because of this, I know that you'll find a way this time as well!"

"Thank you, Alia." Shanar managed a crooked smile. "I'm very grateful for your confidence in me. But things won't get easier from now on. The next days will be difficult with the whole city in mourning. People won't have time for music."

"The ceremony for the Prince will be held at the temple of Adir. Why don't you ask there if they need more musicians for the occasion?" Alia suggested. "You've worked for them before."

"But I..."

"No buts. You are going," Alia decided, getting up. "And now let's go to bed. It was a long day."

Shanar stepped toward her and hugged her, burying his face in her blond locks, so like their mother's. "I'll go. Thanks, Alia. You're the best."

"Aren't I always?" Alia replied, leaning against him.

 

~>*<~

 

The next morning found Shanar ready to try his luck. He dressed himself in his best clothes and combed his long hair until it was shining. Since the music at the temple of Adir traditionally wasn't played by stringed instruments, he left his lute behind. However, it didn't feel right not to have something of his grandfather's with him to an audition. Shanar rummaged through a little box of mementos until he found a small, silvery charm on a chain. He had never worn it for fear of losing it, but today seemed a good day to wear it. Carefully, Shanar pulled it over his head and looked at it for a moment before he stuffed it under the collar of his shirt. It was a small rectangular piece of silvery metal, engraved with tiny ornaments: rectangles, circles, and lines. It didn't match any kind of design Shanar had ever seen, but his grandfather had told him that this charm came from the far city of Shir'Edrim where their ancestors had lived decades ago.

'There is a kind of magic in it,' his grandfather had told him with a conspiratorial smile. 'It never worked for me nor for my father or his mother before, but the story goes that a long time ago, this charm was a gift from the god Adan himself and gave special powers to our ancestors. All of them were bards, like you and I, and it is said that with his charm, their music could influence the hearts of people. They could calm the angry, bring joy to the sad, even heal those with a sickness inside their souls.'

Shanar, then ten rainy-seasons old, had answered, 'But Grandfather, don't you alway say that these are the tasks of every bard?'

Grandfather had laughed and ruffled his hair. 'Of course!'

Shanar had to smile at the memory. His beloved grandfather had died soon after and was now gone for seven rainy-seasons, but with this little charm, he would be with Shanar today, giving him strength.

The way to the temple of Adir was rather long; since it was the most important building of the city next to the Sovereign's palace, it was located in the center of Al'Menara. High spires painted in red and gold rose into the morning sky. A lot of people, clad in dusty-gray mourning clothes, had already assembled there to pray for the deceased Prince. Priests prepared for the ceremony by erecting a funeral pyre right in front of the entrance and pulling a gray, translucent cloth over the statue of Adir. The huge stone figure stood in the middle of the round temple hall, twice as tall a man.

Shanar quickly performed the usual rites in front of the grim-looking god, depicted as a man in armor with a sword in his hand. He held no great love for Adir. The god of fire, death, and war was the protector of the city, but Shanar's patron deity was Shariha, since she was the goddess of music and storytelling. But today, he would need Adir's help.

Shanar had participated in the Fire Festival at the beginning of draught-time, so the priests might remember him. He addressed one of the red-clad men and asked if they needed another musician.

The priest scratched himself behind the ear. "I have to ask the Master of Ceremonies," he replied. "I remember you, lad: you sang the fire chorale. I will see what I can do for you."

Shanar waited patiently until the priest returned, looking around the temple. The cremation would take place tonight, as soon as the suns had set. Tomorrow, there would be long ceremonies during the day, since the favored time to worship Adir was noon. If he managed to get this work, he might get at least half as much as he had gotten during the Fire Festival which lasted three days. This would mean he'd get one goldsun. One precious goldsun more to add to Alia's dowry...

Finally, the priest returned with another by his side, which Shanar knew as Samil, the assistant to the Master of Ceremonies. "Bard Shanar, good to see you again. If you are looking for work, we will gladly hire you for the funeral," he said.

Shanar smiled and bowed deeply. "Thank you, Priest Samil. When shall I return?"

"Be here one hour before sunset," Samil answered. "You don't have to bring anything; we will have gray robes for you."

Shanar thanked him again. It was horrible to think like this, but the Prince's death had brought some good to his life at least.

 

~>*<~

 

Alia was overjoyed to hear that Shanar had work at the temple. Since all business was forbidden today, it was no use going to the bazaar. All day long, Shanar helped Alia and Nimi around the house and continued some much-needed lessons in reading, writing, and arithmetic with the younger siblings. Merchants and craftsmen mostly only knew how to calculate their earnings and costs, barely able to sign their names, but Shanar insisted on all his siblings learning these things. He vividly remembered his grandfather teaching him and showing him the importance of the written word.

In the afternoon, he made his way back to the temple. Once again, he had put on his grandfather's good luck charm. Maybe it was working after all?

At the temple, he met with a dozen other bards in a back room. They all changed into simple gray robes and wound long red scarves around their heads to form a turban. Shanar's slightly darker skin still made him stand out from the others, but this was quickly remedied by the covering of ash they all had to smear onto their faces. After organizing their order, they went out into the main hall.

The repertoire was simple: At first, a choir of adoration for Adir, followed by the traditional mourning chant. Another song asking for Adir's blessing ended the ceremony while everyone went out to watch the funeral pyre.

The Prince's corpse, hidden under a red cloth, was already lying on the altar beneath the veiled statue of Adir. The High Priest, wearing long red robes, lit the braziers surrounding it. As the doors of the temple were opened, Shanar and the other musicians started to sing. The High Priest stepped forward, greeting the Sovereign's family as they slowly walked in. Behind them, the whole court followed, led by the three most noble families: the Kha'als, the Anessirs, and the Talmans. A guard of honor flanked them, raising their swords in salute.

Shanar, automatically singing the choir of adoration, watched the nobles with interest. What would he give to be the court bard of one of those families! Although in mourning, all of them had managed to wear their gray robes in a way that showed wealth and elegance. The first in line was of course the Sovereign himself, Kahil Menar. Shanar had seen him already during the festivals and was shocked to notice how old he now looked. The grief over his son's death must have cost him at least ten rainy-seasons. Nevertheless, he was still a tall, proud man with a neatly trimmed white beard and sharp, bird of prey-like eyes.

Next to him stood his grandson, Prince Arevan. This was the first time for the child to join an official ceremony - usually, the noble children didn't went out into public until they were at least ten rainy-seasons old. The boy was small for his age and slim, his face a mask of barely concealed pain beneath a shock of flaming red hair, typical to the Menar family.

A step behind them stood Yahezid, commander of the narif'adir, not in mourning garment, but in his full armor and helmet, covered in gray ash for the oaccasion. There were also two women; the taller one was Lady Taira, Yahezid's mother and head of the household. She held a young girl by the hand; Princess Liyel, Arevan's older sister. If Shanar remembered correctly, she was about the same age as his own sister Nimi with her twelve rainy-seasons. There was also another man in mourning robes standing next to them, but Shanar couldn't make out any details because he was wearing a turban as well.

Shanar's gaze went back to the young prince. It must be very hard for the child to be here and keep such a calm manner.

The choir ended, and the High Priest began with his speech, calling to Adir to give Haruf's soul safe passage into the realm of stars. The he signed to start the mourning chant. It was a beautiful solo, traditionally sung by the youngest bard in the group in a clear, simple, unbroken voice. Shanar and the others therefore expected their break to continue.

But the young man in question, barely of age, froze. He had been very nervous already, but now he sat there, face dark-red, and gasped for air.

A tense whisper rose from the crowd as the ceremony was interrupted this way. This was not good. If the Sovereign was unhappy with the bards, they might not get paid at all. It was also bad luck to affront the gods with an interrupted ceremony.

Shanar let half a second pass before he decided. He quickly rose and started to sing the mourning chant himself.

 

_Pray for the souls_

_That leave this world_

_Pray for the souls_

_That have ended their journey_

_Pray for the souls_

_That go home in peace_

_Pray for the souls_

_That return to Shariha's arms_

_Pray for the souls_

_That remain in this world_

_Pray for the souls_

_That still have ways to go_

_Pray for the souls_

_That always remember_

_Pray for the souls_

_That the gods haven't called yet_

 

_Pray for the dead_

_Pray for the living_

_Pray to Mukar to guide us_

_Pray to Adan to heal us_

_Pray to Adir to protect us_

_Pray to Shariha to embrace us_

_Pray for the souls_

_That live forever_

 

Shanar's voice, although it held no longer the flute-like quality of a boy's, was strong and clear, easily carrying through the hall. It was wonderful to sing solo in such a room. Shanar closed his eyes and enjoyed every note for he was sure that he would never again get this chance. There was a warm feeling inside his chest as the familiar words flowed from his lips. The last time he had sung this chant, it had been for his father's cremation. Back then, it had helped him to cope with the grief that had been almost too much to bear. Maybe it could now help another sad little boy.

When the last note had faded, it was deafeningly silent in the temple. Shanar opened his eyes again, realizing that all the people present were staring at him. Even more, there were tears in many eyes. Even Sovereign Kahil and the hardened soldiers looked moved. Shanar held his breath - never before had he gotten such a reaction. Once again, he looked at Prince Arevan. The painful composure was gone, and the child was crying silently.

Shanar sat down again. Even his fellow singers had wet streaks marring the ash in their faces.

The High Priest cleared his throat, obviously shaken as well, before he continued. He told of Prince Haruf's great deeds and courage, praising his skills as a warrior and future leader.

The mood had changed since his song, Shanar noticed. The depressing atmosphere was gone, making place for open grief and now, first signs of comfort as the people listened to the heroic recounts. When the musicians started their next song, Shanar was singing under his breath. Somehow, he didn't dare to raise his voice again.

After the ceremony was over, the young bard thanked Shanar. "I'm sorry I froze," he said with a embarrassed smile. "I guess I wasn't really prepared. But in the end it seemed for the best. I've never heard someone sing like this before!"

"He's right," one of the older bards remarked. "That was incredible. I didn't know you were this good. You should try to become a court bard for one the noble families. They all heard you and were moved."

"Thank you," Shanar replied. "I had hoped to get a chance like this somehow. But they might be put off if they see that I'm, well, not an Al'Menaran."

The older bard smiled. "You'd be surprised. I heard only recently that having unusually-looking servants at the house is all the fashion among the nobles now. Your looks might even become an advantage."

Shanar was truly surprised to hear this. But if it was true, he might actually be able to find a wealthy employer. The question was how to get to them. He couldn't just simply walk up to one of the lords and ask if he needed a bard. But there was still a full day of ceremonies at the temple with all the nobles present to think of a way. And maybe, one of them would approach him.

 

~>*<~

 

Shanar returned home very late at night and kept quiet as not to wake his siblings. Way before dawn, he was again gone to help prepare for the ceremonies. Today's program would be far more complicated, with a dozen different songs and musical pieces. After the little interruption last night, the oldest bard, traditionally the leader, had decided that the little group needed to rehearse together before they started with their work.

This precaution was rewarded with a flawless program that went by much swifter than Shanar had imagined. In between, his gaze went back to the Sovereign's family and the members of the three other noble clans. Although there was no opportunity to catch their attention again, he dearly hoped one of them would ask the priests for his name. He just had to be patient and continue to do his best.

The ceremony went way in to the evening again, leaving Shanar tired, hungry, and still without any offer. What he got, however, was one solid goldsun, safely tucked inside his pocket. All things considered, this had been well worth it.

The suns had long set, and the streets were unusually quiet since all business had been suspended for the time of mourning. There was no light shining from the small windows of his family's house although it wasn't that late.

Suddenly, Shanar had a very bad feeling. It increased as he noticed the door standing slightly ajar. Carefully, he pushed it open.

His heart almost stopped at the sight before him. The whole room was in disarray, furniture and crockery scattered and broken. Nimi sat in a corner, face pale and expressionless, Akil and Siran tucked in her arms, crying softly. Alia knelt next to Jeana who was lying on the floor, not moving. Her right arm was twisted, and there was blood matting her dark-blond hair.

"What happened?" Shanar gasped, rushing in. "By the gods, what happened here?"

Alia turned her face toward him; there was a bruise on her left cheek. "Thieves! They stormed in and asked for the money you had saved up for my dowry. They grabbed Jeana and twisted her arm... They threatened to... I had to..." She closed her eyes. "They took everything and ran off. Just moments ago."

 

 


	4. Chapter 2 - Coins and Chains

 

Shanar sank to his knees and gently cradled Jeana's head. "We have to get a healer," he whispered. "There's Mistress Badris' practice right down the street. Go and fetch her!"

Alia nodded and stormed out of the house. Shanar looked at Nimi. "Are you and the boys alright?"

Nimi nodded silently, hugging her little brothers closer to her.

Shanar carefully lifted Jeana from the ground and lay her down on her bed before he re-lit the lanterns. His mind felt like it was in the midst of a sandstorm, his movements automatic and unconscious.

Half an eternity seemed to pass until Alia finally returned with a small, plump woman wrapped in a shawl. "Alia told me everything," she said. "Now fetch me fresh water and clean cloth. Put the lanterns next to the bed!"

Shanar and Alia obeyed immediately as the Badris went to work. She carefully cleaned Jeana's head wound, a deep gash right above her right temple, and wrapped it in a bandage. After that she went to examine the arm. "This is badly broken," she stated. "The bone has splintered, I can feel it. I need to make a cut and take out the little pieces of bone, otherwise it will never heal properly. The arm could be stiff forever."

"Do what you must," Shanar whispered. "Just help her!"

The thought of Jeana not being able to use her arm again was terrible. The society of Al'Menara was very strict about any kind of disabilities, safe for the injuries a soldier might suffer in battle against the sessera. Crippled people were sent out of town, and if a blind or hunchbacked child was born to a family, it was immediately left in the desert. The only place to welcome those children was the temple of Adan, but only wealthy families could afford the high sum they asked for. And often enough, they did not even want to. With a crippled arm, Jeana would never be able to find work or get a husband. She would be cast out of the city like a criminal to be eaten by wild beasts.

In the flickering light of the lamps, Badris operated on Jeana. Shanar was holding her down in case she might wake up and panic, but she was still unconscious, her usually lively face pale and still.

Finally, Badris was finished, neatly sewing up the wound and setting the bone with a strong piece of wood taken from one of the broken chairs. She gave Shanar a little flask with a milky fluid. "Give this to her when she wakes up, as well as some water. She'll fall asleep again and won't feel any pain. I'll come back tomorrow morning to look after her."

Alia and Shanar thanked her profoundly as she left. When they were alone again, the young woman burst into tears.

Shanar took her into his arms. "She'll be alright," he murmured. "Now please tell me what happened! How did those thieves know we had the money?"

"They said they overheard Master Kasrim talking at the market," Nimi answered. Her voice was steady and calm, but she was still deathly pale. Thankfully, the twins had stopped sobbing and had fallen asleep in her arms. "He proudly told someone at the market that his younger son was going to marry Alia soon and that you were playing at the mourning ceremony today."

"Did you know those men?" Shanar asked. "I cannot imagine our neighbors to do such a thing!"

"No, they were strangers. They had cold eyes like deadeater birds, the rest of their faces hidden behind scarfs." Nimi shuddered. "They said they'd bribe one of the guards at the gate so they could leave the city at night."

"And they took everything?"

Alia nodded sadly. "Every single goldsun you saved up. They came in here and demanded the money. I told them to leave, but they hit me and grabbed Jeana. They twisted her arm and threatened to break her neck if I didn't get them the money. When they had it, one ran off with it. The other waited a moment, then threw Jeana against the wall and fled as well."

"May Adir burn their eyes out!" Shanar cursed. "I should have been here!" He knew that it was useless to send the guards after them if no one had seen their faces. So far, the neighborhood had been peaceful and supportive in their mutual modest living situations, with no serious crimes happening. But all it had taken was a pair of greedy, ruthless men accidentally getting some fatal information.

"Then they would have waited for another time until we were alone," Alia reasoned. "It's not your fault!"

"What are we going to do now, Shanar?" Nimi asked with a face far too serious for her age.

He took a deep breath. "We do what we can. Nimi, put the boys to bed, then we clean up this mess." He hesitated before he pulled out the goldsun he had earned today. "Let's put this away safely. We'll need it to pay Mistress Badris and buy new furniture."

 

~>*<~

 

Neither Shanar nor his oldest sisters slept that night. A few hours later, Jeana woke up, blinking in disorientation at first, but able to speak coherently. After Alia gave her the medicine, she fell asleep again, just as Badris had said. After a thorough cleanup, the little house was in order again, albeit a bit empty. Some of the furniture had survived the attack, but a lot of it had to be replaced.

A soon as the suns had risen, Badris returned to examine Jeana again. The girl had woken up and was able to answer questions about how she was feeling. Thankfully, the medicine was working well, so she wasn't in any pain. Badris was satisfied as well and told Shanar that she believed in a full recovery. "She just has to stay in bed and not move her arm until I allow her to. I'll come back regularly to check on her."

"We are very grateful, Mistress. How much do we owe you?" Shanar asked.

The older woman smiled. "After what you just went through, I will only charge you the flask of pain medicine, which is, unfortunately, not easy to come by and cost me one goldsun on the market. You can pay me when draught-time is over."

"Thank you. You'll get your fee as soon as possible," Shanar promised. "And Jeana's arm will be alright?"

"As long as she behaves, I think it will heal well," Badris replied. "There might still be some complications, but it's too early to know. Just keep her in bed."

After she had left, Alia made breakfast from the meager rests that were still palatable. None of them was very hungry, but they all ate as much as they could. The twins, robust little children that they were, had suffered the least and were already playing again. Nimi had recovered well, although her already serious little face now looked even more grown up than before. She stayed with Jeana and kept the boys from making too much noise as Alia went out to the market to buy new crockery and food.

Shanar grabbed his lute to go out to work although it felt absolutely senseless. Of course they needed every little redsun he could get, but it would be just enough to get by. He had taken four rainy-seasons to safe up Alia's dowry. Now, Master Kasrim would never wait as long again for his son to marry. Before his night, Shanar's family had been in a tight spot. Today, it was hopeless. There was no way for all the girls to get a good place in life, not even to speak of the boys. They all had to stay at home, relying on Shanar's sole support. And they'd all starve to death if anything was to happen to him. All that would be left for them was to beg in the streets or sell themselves to strangers...

Shanar stopped in his tracks. It was possible to sell oneself officially into indentured servitude in return for a certain amount of money. The higher the skills, the higher the price and the less the time to work it off. Buyers from the noble families usually attended the auction to acquire cooks, secretaries, or dancers.

He couldn't believe he was even considering this. But was there any other choice? Shanar quickly calculated. 20 goldsuns for Alia's dowry, 30 for Nimi's fee to join the temple of Shariha, another 20 to secure Jeana's future, and 15 each for the boys to learn a trade because they had no ear for music and couldn't become bards. That made the ludicrous amount of one hundred goldsuns.

Shanar took a deep breath. Who would pay this much money for a lowly bard? And even if so, how long would he have to serve? Thirty or forty rainy-seasons? A whole life? Even if he got the money, he might never see his family again.

When Shanar had reached his usual spot at the well, things were looking so normal around him that he almost couldn't believe it. Nobody had learned of the attack so far, and it was important that it remained this way. Master Kasrim smiled at him as usual, offering some fruits. Shanar couldn't blame him. He had been a bit careless, taking openly about the dowry, but it was not his fault. It had just been bad timing.

When Shanar asked for favorite songs, ironically, someone called for Coins and Chains.

 

Golden coins and golden chains

That is all the greedy gains.

The greedy counting coins by day

But in his sleep, in chains he lay -

Golden chains weighted him down,

Shackle, fetter, bonds that own -

Own him, as he thought he did

With all the gold that he had hid

Inside his house, under this bed.

See where being greedy led!

All the money that he gains

Is nothing more but heavy chains.

 

Although a sound warning, Shanar had never wished so hard in his life to have that greedy man's problem switched with his own. Having no coin at all was weighting him down even heavier than all the gold in Badal'Shari.

 

~>*<~

 

The rest of the day, Shanar was thinking about the slave auction. Although it was a stupid idea, he couldn't come up with any better. And of course, he couldn't speak to anyone about this. His siblings would be appalled, never wanting for him to sacrifice himself for their sake. The only other option would be an offer from one of the noble families, but a position there was not much different from slavery and could be canceled again if he displeased anyone by accident. If he sold himself, his family would get the whole amount of money right now, and any further consequences would rest on his shoulders alone.

After finishing his day early, but with decent results, Shanar crossed the city to reach the slave market. He had to confirm a few things first before he pondered this option any further. The market was housed in a semi-round building with a little stage to present the merchandise to a select audience. A fat, bald man in elegantly embroidered clothing greeted him as he stepped through the door.

"Good evening, young man. I'm Karum, owner of this establishment. How can I help you?"

"I'd like to know more about the conditions of indentured servitude," Shanar replied, feeling the man's beady eyes raking over his body.

"Of course! Well, at first we establish your talents and the amount of money you wish to gain. If we think it possible, you sign a contract and will be put on auction for the noble families and some other wealthy merchants. If they pay the right price, the contract is sealed. Any further money will go to me. If they do not bid enough, your contract will be offered to the public service. There, you will work for the rest of your life. This, of course, only applies to craftsmen, scribes, and the like." Karum rubbed his hands together. "Now, a young person like yourself might fetch a good price. I assume you are some kind of... entertainer?" The way he stretched the word suggested he did think about something different than a musician or juggler.

"I'm a bard," Shanar replied, trying to remain calm. "I sing and play the lute skillfully. I can also read, write, and do calculus."

"Is that so?" Karum raised his eyebrows, his interest obviously piqued further. "And what amount of money do you need?"

"One hundred goldsuns," Shanar told him.

"One hundred? By Mukar, you're not modest, young man, not modest in the least!" Karum exclaimed. "But if you are truly as skilled as you claim, we might be able to get this sum for you. Surely you can bring me some references? I don't have an ear for music myself. But exotic-looking entertainers are all the fashion now, but there are so few to come by."

This was the second time Shanar heard this, and it gave him new hope. "If someone pays this much, how many years would I have to serve?" he asked.

"Ten rainy-seasons are the minimum," Karum replied. "There are no contracts that are any shorter. But you're young and... Wait, how old are you exactly? The younger, the better, but you have to be of legal age, at least."

"I'm 18 rainy-seasons."

"That's good. Well, take your time and think about it," Karum suggested. "I believe this will work out. And in the unlikely case you will not be bought, we can always use a skilled scribe in public service. As I said, you would have to serve for the rest of your life."

Shanar promised to think it over and left.

Back at home, Shanar lost no words about what he had done. If he really wanted to go through with this, he had to do so in secret. It would be horrible not to be able to say goodbye properly, but his siblings would never let him go. He didn't sleep well that night, thinking about various other possibilities. But there were none to get this much money. Another more ruthless man might have decided to sell one of his siblings to secure the well-being of all the others. Pretty girls always found a buyer. But the thought of someone touching his sisters was so revolting that Shanar would rather die than let this happen. It had to be himself or no one.

Early the next morning, Shanar had come to a conclusion. He would go back to the temple of Adir and ask if some of the lords had inquired after him. Then he would ask the Master of Ceremonies for a reference to go to the other temples and present himself there once more in the hope that they needed a new musician. If that failed, he would write some final letters.

 

~>*<~

 

"I'm very sorry, Bard Shanar, but nobody asked for you," Samil told him. The priest had written him a glowing reference and they were now talking in a little office next to the great temple hall. "The Sovereign himself thanked the High Priest for a beautiful service and the excellent music, but that was all."

"I don't understand. You saw how moved everyone was by my song, and I heard that mehan'murad entertainers are sought," Shanar replied. "I had really hoped that someone would inquire after my services."

Samil shook his bald head. "I think the problem is that everyone was so moved," he replied and solemnly looked at Shanar. "This kind of music was perfect for soothing these wounded hearts, yes. But this city is a city of warriors who can't allow any weaknesses. And their leaders want happy, encouraging songs inside their walls, not sad ones."

"I can sing happy songs!" Shanar exclaimed. "Well, I mostly play ballads with heroic or tragic stories..."

"You see? Noble people don't want that, I guess."

"But if my talent is perfect for soothing hearts, as you said, why not employ me here at the temple?" Shanar didn't want to give up yet.

Samil sighed. "You know very well that we do not need more than three musicians outside the festival or important ceremonies like Prince Haruf's funeral. And our musicians are good, you know them. Good and unobtrusive. The Master of Ceremonies and the High Priest want to have it this way. Do you think I didn't speak on your behalf already? They fear it would be too troubling for the people. We can't have hardened warriors cry like little babies in these halls."

There was no way to protest against this. They had decided. "Thank you for speaking for me, Priest Samil," Shanar murmured, lowering his head. "This was very generous of you."

"May the gods light your way, young Bard," Samil replied. "I'm sure you will find a place where your extraordinary gifts will be valued."

Shanar nodded and left. He still had three other temples to visit, although his heart was heavy with Samil's words. Was there really something like too much of a good thing in regards of talent?

The evening found Shanar in an even worse mood. They all were happy to employ him for a day or two at a festival and write him excellent references for his past work, but none of the temples had any regular work to offer. The temple of Shariha only kept a staff of all-female musicians, the temple of Mukar needed only drummers, and the temple of Adan kept no regular musicians at all, training some of the unwanted children they cared for in their ceremonial songs. As he arrived there, a small group of young boys, all blind or crippled, rehearsed a chorale, their innocent voices moving Shanar the core. Especially one child with white-blond hair and unseeing eyes, pale like morning mist, sang extraordinary beautiful. Shanar stayed for a while to listen, knowing that compared to these children, his situation and that of his siblings was almost luxurious.

But if Jeana's arm didn't heal properly... No, he couldn't think about that. All he could do was was wait for her to get better - and then leave for good. There was no other way.

 

~>*<~

 

Very early in the morning a few weeks later, Shanar quietly went up. He placed a letter on the table and packed his few things he wanted to take with him. He didn't know how many personal items he was allowed to keep, but his grandfather's lute and good luck charm had to accompany him. He tiptoed to the childrens' bed, kissed them on the foreheads and stroked their tousled hair, taking his time to look at their faces. Serious and clever Nimi, wild Jeana, now much more well-behaved since her arm had healed, Akil and Siran, identical little faces scrunched up in some dream... He already missed them so much it was almost unbearable.

As he bowed down to kiss Alia, she opened her eyes.

"I know you're going to do something very stupid," she whispered. "And don't lie to me! I've suspected something for weeks. But tell me: is there any way to keep you from it?"

Shanar shook his head. "I'm sorry, but no. Please tell the others that I love them more than anything in the world. And... invent some story for them. Tell them I got an offer to work at a faraway noble's house. I don't want them to think badly of me."

"They would never do that, whatever you do," Alia replied, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes into the pillow. "Our love goes with you, Shanar. Remember that always."

"Promise me to be happy, Alia. Sell the house so you have enough money to take care of the others when you marry Sehan." Shanar leaned down and kissed her cheek. It was wet from her tears and his. Just one small word, but it was as heavy as a dozen stones around his neck, pulling him down. "Goodbye."

Outside, it was still cold and damp, the suns not yet risen. Shanar felt numb and empty as he went down the familiar, winding streets of his quarter. Only the gods knew when he would walk them again. He crossed over to the center of town, heading for the slave market. Despite the early hour, it was already open. Master Karum was dictating a hastily scribbling secretary a list of new merchandise. He stopped and smiled broadly as he saw Shanar.

"Young bard, welcome back! So you've decided?"

Shanar nodded, putting the temples' reference on the table. "Yes. Where do I sign?"

 


	5. Chapter 3 - City of Gold

 

 

"You are really lucky," one of the old servant women whispered, helping Shanar back into his clothes after an utterly humiliating, but incredibly successful auction. "Do you realize who bought you?"

"No. And frankly, I don't care." He still felt the stares of the crowd on his skin as Master Karum had ordered him to take even his loincloth off. This must be how kettle on the marked felt.

"It was Master Asnam Malhad, the buyer for the Sovereign's household himself!" she told him. "We see him here often, especially when a mehan'murad like you is for sale. Someone at the palace likes them very much as servants."

The Sovereign's household... the palace... Shanar had always dreamed that some distant day, he would serve in such high company and delight the nobles with their music. But now, he would be lucky if he would even get a chance to demonstrate his skills. Maybe they'd put a collar on him and lead him around like they would a tame anushi with an unusual fur coloring. It was disgusting.

The senior servant took his arm and inspected the tattoo on the back of his hand that every mehan'shari citizen had: an intricate pattern showing the family name, home town, the deity one served with his or her profession, and as appropriate, the marital status.

"We have some special ink designed to fade after a certain time," she told him. "Give me the ink for ten rainy-seasons," she instructed of of the other servants. "The sign of the Menar family will be added, together with a sign showing your status of a slave and not a family member." After she had gotten the little phial and the sharp feather, she held Shanar's hand with a practiced, firm grip to prick the tattoo into his skin. It barely hurt, but it was almost as humiliating as dropping his loincloth in front of an audience. This little red tattoo in the form of three rings wound around his little finger was as bad as a collar.

Ten rainy-seasons suddenly seemed like eternity.

"Well, well, well, what a lucky day. Thank Mukar for this wonderful business!" Karum was joining them, rubbing his hands gleefully. "Have you heard already? The Sovereign's household himself! And such a handsome sum for you, 130 goldsuns! I wish people like you would walk in here every day."

Shanar grit his teeth and just inclined his head. "Thank you for taking care of me, Master Karum," he said demurely. "I will be everything you promised to the buyer. And you will deliver my letter and the money to my family?"

"Of course, don't you worry. Now come and take your belongings, he's waiting outside. Is the tattoo finished? Excellent. Hurry!"

Shanar nodded goodbye to the servant women and quickly followed Karum outside. 

The buyer was a tall man with a stern face, piercing dark eyes and a bald head like a priest of Adir, but he wore the fine clothes of a noble and a sword like a trained warrior.

"Shanar, meet Master Asnam Malhad, overseer of the Sovereign's household. Master Asnam, this your new addition to the palace, Bard Shanar."

Shanar bowed deeply.

Master Asnam's cool face didn't betray anything as he said, "Thank you, Master Karum. As always, you offer good merchandise." He gave the grinning Karum a big purse. "Follow me, Shanar."

 

~>*<~

 

The way to the palace wasn't far. Shanar kept close for fear of Asnam thinking he might stray. Asnam didn't look back as he made his way across the crowded places and streets and then up the broad stairs to the palace where armored guards of the narif'adir stood in silent watch. They saluted when they recognized Asnam and opened the huge, double-winged doors.

Shanar couldn't help but stare as they entered. From the outside, the palace was just an unadorned white building with a dome like the temples, and two flanking spires. But the inside was like a completely different world. The walls and the ceiling were covered with intricate ornaments carved out of wood, painted on glazed tiles or woven into tapestries. The floor, more glazed tiles, was almost invisible under the thick layers of lush carpets. Even the smell was different: a thick, sweet fragrance, similar of the incense at the temple, was emanating from little coal braziers. Empty corridors and antechambers finally gave way to a beautiful inner courtyard the like Shanar had never seen. There was an artificial lake in the center, flanked by small trees and flower bushes. Water lilies floated lazily on the water's surface, sometimes disturbed by glittering golden fish. 

Shanar hadn't noticed that he had stopped to gawk like a desert farmer on his first trip to the city until Asnam stopped and said, "This is only one of several inner courtyards, and not even the biggest. Come on."

Quickly, Shanar followed. A hundred questions were whirling around in his head, but this stern man wasn't the right person to ask them. Hopefully, the other servants would be a bit more approachable. After more lavish rooms and hallways, they reached an area that was simpler and more familiar. These had to be the servant quarters. Asnam stopped in front of a door in a hallway and then opened it, revealing a small room with a simple bed. "You will sleep here. All servants with special skills have their own rooms. I will send new clothes. This evening, I will present you to the head of royal household, Lady Taira. She will decide on your duties."

"May I ask a question?" Shanar finally dared. When Asnam didn't reply, he went on, "Why did you buy me? I mean, you don't know if I'm a good bard. I am, but all you have are my references. I didn't show my skills at the auction..."

"That wasn't important. Lady Taira likes mehan'murad servants, so I buy every one I can get for her."

"So I'll be serving her?"

"You will serve whoever will give you orders in this palace, except for the other servants," Asnam replied. "Now get in and wait for me to fetch you later."

With these words, Shanar was left alone.

The small house of his family hadn't allowed for single bedrooms, so not sharing the sleeping quarters with anyone was new to Shanar. Never before in his life, he had had this much space all to himself. Aside from the bed, there was a clothes chest, a wash basin, and coal braziers to warm the air in cool nights. 

Shanar safely stored away his lute, put on his good luck charm (he had no idea if he was allowed to, but he would try) and sat down on the bed. It had all happened far too quickly. 

But there was no time to think. Moments later, someone knocked on the door, and a young woman entered. She was mehan'murad like himself, with her skin a lighter tone than his, but curling hair that was black as night. Her eyes were a silvery gray the likes he had never seen before. She smiled at him. "Welcome to the palace. I'm Sharistani. Master Asnam sent me to bring you new clothes."

"Thank you. My name is Shanar. Are you allowed to talk to me for a moment? I have so many questions," Shanar replied.

She nodded. "Master Asnam thought you might have." She stepped in and put the bundle of clothes on the chest before she sat down next to him on the bed. Sharistani seemed to be a few rainy-seasons older than himself and was exceptionally beautiful which was even more highlighted by the black make-up around her eyes, the glittering pearls in her hair and the revealing clothing. It consisted of little more than scraps of blue and gold embroidered cloth covering her chest and her hips, held together by thin chains and ribbons. More chains were wound around her ankles and gave a tinkling sound with every step.

"What are your duties here in the palace? And how long have you been here?"

"I came here one rainy-season ago with a contract of ten rainy-seasons, like yours. Back then, people like us weren't that asked for, but Lady Taira had already taken a liking to us. I play the flute and dance. Master Asnam said you were a bard, so we will perform together. Lady Taira is set on completing a musical group consisting only of our kind. We also have another musician, Julanar. She plays the drums." Shanar noticed that she, like him, didn't use the degrading expression "mehan'murad".

"Are they... I mean, are you treated well?" he asked carefully.

Sharistani gave him a sad little smile. "Before I came here, I was starving on the streets, forced to privately... entertain men with sweaty hands for a few extra coins after they had watched me dance. Here, I have good food, a nice room, and I can bathe every day."

"And... the men?" Shanar immediately regretted the question since he already knew the answer.

Sharistani stood up. "Change into the new clothes. You hair looks fine, but I assume the lady will send her hairdressers to get some adornments and braids into it. Good thing that it is so long. The bathing facilities are down the hall, beyond the green door. Don't wander around any further until you have your duties and know where to go."

Shanar nodded. "Thank you, Sharistani. It's good to have a friend here."

That made her smile in an unrestricted way for the first time. "That's true. We have more time to talk later. Just settle in and try to impress Lady Taira."

"I'll try. Any ideas on how to make a good impression on her?" Shanar asked.

"Be docile and agree to everything she says," Sharistani advised him. "And if you should come across her son, Commander Yahezid... try to be invisible. He does not... care much for our kind, but he indulges his mother’s fancies."

That was helpful advice. "And what about the other members of the family?"

"The Sovereign keeps to himself, dedicated to his duties. Lady Taira loves entertainment and socializes with the other noble ladies, so we perform for h er for the most part." Sharistani paused. "Princess Liyel has recently been given into the custody of Lady Taira to learn the duties of high-born woman, so you might meet her in the lady's company. A sweet, shy girl she is. And then there's Prince Arevan. I haven't seen much of him, but the other servants gossip that he is somewhat... difficult. I doubt you'll see him at all."

"Thank you. I think I'm now at least a bit prepared."

Sharistani's smile was back for a moment, although it seemed to be pitying this time, and then left him alone again.

 

~>*<~

 

Master Asnam came to fetch Shanar a few hours later. Shanar had put on the clothes he had been given although he felt very self-conscious. The garments were blue and gold like Sharistani's had been and just as revealing, consisting of trousers made of very gauzy cloth and a tight vest held together by little chains. Just the familiar warm weight of his good luck charm gave him some confidence.There were no shoes. 

Master Asnam seized him up, like he had before, as if appraising an animal on the market. "A barbaric token of some kind? You can keep it," he told him, nodding at the charm. "Lady Taira wishes to see her newest acquisition. Lower your head and answer her questions. And take your lute with you." 

With hot cheeks, Shanar complied.

On their way, he tried to remember all the corridors and halls there were passing, but he got distracted. The suns had set by now, but all the rooms were brightly illuminated by beautifully crafted lamps. Shanar noticed in fascination that tinted glass had been used to create colored lights, something he had only seen in the temple of Adir so far. Glass windows, even more tinted, was incredibly costly. 

They were also passing other people now, mostly servants, also barefoot - Shanar guessed correctly that this was a more obvious sign of servitude than the small tattoo. They kept their head lowered, concentrating on carrying trays with food, bottles of wine or scrolls of parchment. The other people they met were soldiers of the narif'adir. As the palace's guards, they wore white capes instead of the red ones of the soldiers guarding the Walls of Ghihera. Their contemptuous looks made Shanar wish he was wearing more clothing. 

Finally, they arrived at a kind of parlor. A group of noblewomen were sitting on soft silk cushions, talking to each other.

"Ah, cousin Asnam, come here. Is this my newest exotic bird?" Lady Taira said and waved for them to step closer. Shanar recognized her immediately from the mourning ceremony: she was around fifty rainy-seasons, thin and tall, with elaborately styled, dark-blond hair that was slowly graying, and dark eyes very much like Asnam's. She and her friends were wearing very different clothing from what Shanar was used to see on women: although their garments also consisted of loose trousers and a blouse, a lot of translucent material had been used. The younger women wore their tight tops so short that their bellies were showing. All of them had gold and jewels in their hair along with colorful flowers, pierced earlobes with more jewelery dangling from it and red paint on their lips. After a moment, he noticed a very young girl with reddish-blond hair among them. Although she was dressed even more lavishly than the others, she seemed to feel out of place. This had to be the princess. 

"Yes, this is Shanar. He will sing and play the lute for you, if it pleases you," Asnam introduced him and gave him a little shove forward. 

Shanar bowed deeply. "Honored Lady Taira, most esteemed ladies, I'm grateful to be in your service."

The other women giggled.

"Nice manners!" Taira praised. "And you are a pretty one! He, Sharistani, and Julanar will look perfect together! My own little exotic orchestra! Thank you, Asnam. - Now, Shanar, sit down and play us a little tune on that lute of yours. A love song, perhaps."

Shanar complied and sat down on the floor to play. He kept it unobtrusive and gentle, and soon, the women didn't play any attention to him any more as they continued their chatter. Just Lady Taira kept shooting him pleased looks here and there, and, just once, there was a small smile from Princess Liyel.

 

~>*<~

 

Lady Taira's little gathering continued well into the night. Food and drinks were served, and Shanar continued to play. In between, Taira would take a piece of fruit and give it to Shanar in a way she might feed a pet. The young man hid his humiliation well as he graciously took the morsels, murmuring thanks to his mistress.

He would survive this. So far, no one was hurting him. He could endure it.

Finally, the lady declared the evening to be over, and Shanar was dismissed with more praise for his nice music and pretty looks. He was glad to finally get some peace and quiet, but there was now the problem of finding his way back to the servants' quarters. During this late hour, the corridors were all but deserted so couldn't ask anyone for directions. The colored lamps however, turned out to be fairly good way-points, so Shanar was able to track his way back for the most part. But then he was lost at an intersection. Everything was looking the same, and he had no idea where to head. 

"What are you doing here?"

Shanar whirled around as he heard the deep, commanding voice behind him. It was a tall man in the armor of the narif'adir with a stern, handsome face. He seemed around thirty rainy-seasons. His eyes, a brown so alarmingly light it could almost be called yellow, were fixating him under dark-red eyebrows. 

"I'm sorry, Sir. I got lost," Shanar replied and quickly lowered his gaze. 

"I haven't seen you here before. A new pet of my mother's, right?" the man sneered, and Shanar finally recognized him. This was Commander Yahezid. So far, he had only seen him with his gilded helmet on. He clenched his fists.

"Yes, sir."

Suddenly, Yahezid grabbed his chin and made Shanar look up again. "I know you from somewhere. I never forget a face", he murmured, pinning him down under that unnerving gaze. "But I usually don't mingle with mehan'murad filth."

"Yes, we have met, Sir, four rainy-seasons ago," Shanar replied. He knew it was unwise, but he couldn't stop himself. "My father had died during watch at the wall, and you refused to support my family after his death. I came to the guardhouse at the wall to plead with you."

"Ah yes, of course. Almahed Rafis, was it? That stupid man was drunk and fell off the wall. He dishonored the narif'adir", Yahezid growled. "Neither he nor his family deserved any pity, even less with a bastard mehan'murad son. What's with the angry look, boy? It's clear as day that he wasn't your real father. I suggest you keep quiet and stay out of my way. I may not be so pleasant next time." He roughly shoved Shanar as he strode by. 

Shanar was left alone, shivering with anger. It took him several minutes to calm down and resume his way. On instinct, he took the path Yahezid had not taken, and after a few moments, he recognized the hallway of the servant's quarters.

 

~>*<~

 

The next days were an endless, monotonous blur. Shanar got up, ate and clothed himself, went to entertain Lady Taira when called, went to the baths (which were a wonderful luxury and the highlight of each day) and back to his chambers to sleep. As Sharistani had predicted, Lady Taira's hairdresser wove some light- blue pearls in Shanar's hair that matched the color of his eyes. The jeweler also pierced his earlobes to adorn his ears with dangling trinkets. The price of one of these little ornaments alone would have enabled him to feed his family for a whole season.

He also met Julanar, the other musician, a middle-aged, stern-looking woman with sharp blue eyes and a lithe body betraying a hard life. Her skin was much darker than his, and she also had a strange blue tattoo on her neck the like Shanar had never seen. When he wanted to ask her about it, Julanar just shook her head. 

"She is mute," Sharistani told him. "I think she hasn't spoken a word since Shir'Murad's fall. From what I gathered, she was one of the desert people coming to live in the new city."

"You were there?", Shanar asked her, curiously. "You remember it? I'm sorry if this painful to you, but my mother and grandfather never talked much about their life in Shir'Murad. My father was also one of the desert people. I know nothing of him."

Julanar nodded, smiling sadly. She pointed to the tattoo on her neck, then to Shanar's and Sharistani's bare necks.

"You mean this is some kind of symbol of kinship? Like the tattoo on my hand?" Shanar asked. 

Julanar nodded, then pointed to Shanar and raised her eyebrow as in question.

"Something about me? As I said, there is not much I know. But maybe you knew my father? His name was Gilbadr Jen Mohan. That's all I k now of him."

Julanar's eyes grew wide for a moment, but then she shook her head. Pointing to their instruments, she suggested that they started their rehearsal.

Still, Shanar had the distinct feeling that she knew more than she was able to reveal. Had she known his real father? Maybe they had been of the same clan or tribe? There was little to nothing anyone knew of the dark-skinned, light-eyed desert people who had once mingled with the inhabitants of the lost city of Shir'Murad, leaving half-blooded children like Shanar and Sharistani, now derisively called "mehan'murad"- Children of Murad. Children of shame.

 

~>*<~

 

Working with the two women proved to be effortless. They were convinced that Lady Taira would be very pleased. She had ordered them to perform during a banquet the lady hosted the next evening and entertain her guests. Aside from the nobles, all of the Menar family would be present.

Shanar was a bit nervous. They had decided of a solid mixture of slow, unobtrusive songs and joyous, well-known melodies, nothing complicated, to keep everyone well entertained. Still, he felt trepidation at meeting Commander Yahezid again. If the man set his mind on making his life miserable, there was nothing he could do about it. 

Shanar, Sharistani, and Julanar entered the banquet hall, wearing their fanciest outfits so far - little else but glittering golden nets over loincloths, white lilies woven into their hair. Julanar, untouched by any kind of outward humiliation, looked haughty and grand like a foreign priestess, while Sharistani seemed to embody beauty and sensuality itself. Shanar, next to them, felt downright silly and embarrassed. Almost sensing the stares of the guests on his bare skin, he tried to keep his head down. Being practically naked was surely not how he had imagined performing for the city's leader! 

The trio took its designated place near the main table and started with the first tune, earning good-natured applause. 

Shanar, now feeling a bit safer after this first test of skill, let his gaze wander while he continued to play. The hall was beautifully decorated, the tables filled with golden plates overflowing with fruits and meat the likes Shanar had never seen. He had been fed well with warm, fresh bread, fish, and various fruits he knew, but this was different. 

Shanar watched the nobles in their beautiful clothes for a while before he turned his attention to the royal family. The Sovereign, his face lined with worry, barely touched his wine and seemed completely elsewhere although his sister-in-law tried to cheer him up. Clearly, he was still mourning his son's death, worried about the future and not in the mood for anything light-hearted.

Next to Yahezid, who carefully hid his distaste at seeing mehan'murad musicians, Shanar noticed an exceptionally looking person. It was a young man, a bit older than himself, with a head of blond locks so light they seemed to be made of silver. His bronze face was flawless and ethereal. After a moment, Shanar recognized him as the unfamiliar person at the mourning ceremony. 

For a moment, Shanar felt a pang of jealousy. If he would look like this, he might have found his way to the table of the nobles without selling himself. But this feeling was instantly gone when he noticed the young man touching Yahezid's hand in a familiar manner and the commander grabbing it, whispering something at him. The young man laughed. It was now clear that he must be Yahezid's personal possession. Shanar would ask Sharistani about him later.

The festive atmosphere of the evening was suddenly disturbed, however, when the youngest member of the family suddenly jumped up from his seat after brooding over his food since the beginning of the meal.

"No, I don't care! I'm bored! I want to go!" he shouted.

"Sit down and do as you're told," the Sovereign reprimanded him. "You're now my heir and old enough to eat with the adults. If you insist on behaving like an infant, however, I have to call your old nurse to carry you away."

"I'm not an infant!" he boy screamed, his little face almost as red as his hair. 

"Sit down!" the Sovereign ordered with a thundering voice." I think we'll start weapons training tomorrow. Yahezid, you will teach him personally from now on."

The commander nodded, face tight. "Yes, Uncle."

Prince Arevan, however, was still not willing to comply. Without another word, he ran out of the hall.

The Sovereign sighed. "I was too lax with him. Yahezid, see to it that he trains twice a week. Taira, my dear, assign a personal servant to keep an eye on the boy constantly."

"Don't worry, dear brother. The boy will come to his senses," Taira assured him. "He just needs a firm hand."

The conversation drifted back to other topics. Shanar felt sorry for Arevan. Like in the temple, he seemed to be very lonely and confused. His whole world had shifted with his father's death, but instead of helping him build a new one, his family was set on taking away anything that was familiar. 

After the performance, Shanar asked Sharistani about the beautiful young man with the silver hair. 

"That's Ghajadin, Commander Yahezid's consort," she confirmed at least half of his assumption. "Didn't I tell you about him? He was taken into the family a few rainy-seasons ago. He's a noble from the Anessir family, but an illegitimate child, so it was a major step up for him. He is quiet and friendly, but for all the privileges he enjoys, he is still nothing more than Yahezid's personal plaything. I think sometimes that even we are better off than him." She stretched her arms. "I'm going for a swim in the baths. Can you find your way back on your own quarters?" Julanar had gone already.

Shanar nodded. "I think I'm starting to remember the layout of the palace."

His way took him through one of the beautiful little courtyards he had come to admire so much. When he crossed it, admiring the pond in the middle with its glittering fish, he suddenly heard a shuffling noise. He looked around and finally spotted a small huddled figure under a huge fern. Carefully, Shanar stepped closer. 

A tousled, fiery head shot up. "Go away!"

"I'm sorry, your Highness." Shanar stepped back, and, unsure how to talk to the boy, instinctively resorted to treating him like a normal child. "I didn't know this was your secret spot. Do you come here often?"

"What do you care?" Arevan sounded like he was on the edge of hysteria. "Who are you, anyway? I've never seen you before. You look funny, just like the two women."

"My name is Shanar. I'm a new musician in Lady Taira's service." Slowly, Shanar sat down on the edge of the pool. This was probably a bad idea, but the urge to help the boy and the loss of his own siblings was dictating his actions. "Did you like our music tonight?" When there was no answer, he continued, "Have you never seen people like me and the other two musicians before?"

Arevan shook his head, glancing at Shanar with badly hidden curiosity. "I didn't know there were people with blue eyes and such dark hair."

Shanar smiled despite the sad topic. "Did you ever hear of the fallen city of Shir'Murad? We come from there."

Arevan slowly crawled out from under the fern and looked at Shanar with a set of sullen sunset-colored eyes. "My father... he told me stories of faraway places," he said, "but I've never heard of this city."

"I'll tell you the story, if you like. Even better, there is a song about it."

Although Shanar actually disliked that particular ballad because if its far too personal theme, the tone was sad and beautiful and the verses well-set. 

 

 

There once was a man called Murad the Brave, 

And men followed him, young and old.

Everyone said, "You go to your grave!"

But they built a City of Gold.

 

There once was a man called Murad the Brave -

His City of Gold was burned down.

One thousand men were called to their grave

By black desert demons unknown.

 

No title left to grace Murad's name

Whenever this story is told.

All that remains is sadness and shame -

Gone like the City of Gold. 

 

 

Shanar realized that the last time he had sung this song, it had been for his audience at the market when he had still been free. It felt good to sing again, like a warm glowing at his throat; so far, Lady Taira hadn't asked him to sing at all. 

As he sang, he noticed a change in Arevan. There was surprise in the little face, then something like recognition. And at the end of the sad little tune, the child was weeping. Sobs racked the small body. Slowly, Shanar went up and knelt next to Arevan, touching his shoulder. Without warning, the boy flung himself at him, sobbing and screaming.

 

Shanar tried to hold him still, but the boy was surprisingly strong, little hands clutching at the net fabric, nearly ripping it, as he sobbed, delirious with a pain his small body as unable to handle. Shanar held him tighter, and just began to hum. This time, it was an old lullaby, soft and sweet without words. Arevan loosened his grip, slowly calming down. Shanar gently stroked the tousled head. It was like he was back home again, comforting one of his siblings.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear readers, I now have a fixed schedule: I'll update on Tuesdays or Wednesdays every two weeks from now on, so expect a new chapter on November 20th or 21st.


	6. Chapter 4 - Heroes

 

Master Asnam's stern face was the first thing Shanar saw when he opened his eyes gain. He blinked in disorientation and finally realized that he was still in the courtyard, a peacefully sleeping Arevan on his lap. The sky was dark; it must have been very late into night.

"I'm sorry, Sir," he whispered. "I didn't know where his quarters were so I couldn't take him there, and if I had called someone, he might have woken up and cried again."

As he tried to move, Arevan woke up. 

"My Prince, let's get you to bed," Asnam said softly, but Arevan didn't let go of Shanar. Finally, Shanar slowly got up and cradled the boy to his shoulder, following Asnam through another set of yet unfamiliar hallways to a set of lavishly decorated rooms. They seemed to be recently prepared and very big for such a small boy. Carefully, Shanar put Arevan on a huge pile of cushions that seemed to be the bed, pulled off his shoes and overshirt and pulled a blanket over him. Arevan snuggled into the cushions and went back to sleep.

Shanar stroked over the tousled head and slowly stepped back, not turning his gaze away from the boy. "The poor child", he whispered more to himself than to anyone, but Asnam had heard him. He motioned for him to follow him to the other side of the room.

"Until recently, he was sharing quarters with his sister," Asnam said. "But the Princess has her own rooms now, accompanied by handmaidens and governesses."

"He must be very lonely."

Asnam nodded. "Prince Arevan loved his father very much, and Prince Haruf spent as much time as he could with his son since the death of his wife a few rainy-seasons back. The Sovereign is too busy to raise his grandson, of course." He paus ed. "I have no idea why I'm even telling you this. But I'm good judge of character, and I think that I can trust you. Prince Arevan is a spoiled child, but he listened to his father. Now, he follows no orders and constantly talks back to his grandfather. I'm sure you noticed his behavior at dinner. He has always been the heir to the throne, but we all thought that he would have to take up this burden in twenty or thirty rainy-seasons when his father stepped down. Now, Prince Arevan will be the next Sovereign the moment his grandfather dies. That day might be in ten rainy-seasons, if the gods are graceful, but it could be the moment he comes of age."

Shanar nodded. "I understand. And I want to help him, if I can. He reminds me of my younger siblings."

"He seems to have taken a liking to you."

"I guess he recognized my voice from the mourning ceremony when I sang to him," Shanar replied.

Asnam's bushy brows shot up. "That was you? I wasn't present at the ceremony, but they told me what happened. The Prince had been in shock after his father's death, not showing any emotion. He could finally grieve afterward." He paused again, looking back at Arevan's sleeping form. "Lady Taira asked me to assign a personal servant to him to keep an eye on him. I guess she won't be too happy if I suggest you."

"Me?"

"You. As I said, he can be difficult. You seem to a good influence on him, and you have experience with caring for children. You are well educated, so you can teach him as well. My dear cousin will have to be content with her other musicians during the day. Now come on. I'll talk to her in the morning."

 

 

It was just as Asnam had predicted: Lady Taira wasn't too happy, but since she trusted her cousin's judgment, she agreed to the new arrangement. Shanar had absolutely no idea how this could have happened so quickly, but here he was, assigned to serve the little prince. Already his heart had gone out to Arevan who despite Asnam's words, was more pitiful than spoiled in Shanar's eyes. The way he had clung to Shanar had felt so painfully familiar, as had been the need to be comforted. Shanar had been caring for his siblings almost his whole life, and he realized now how empty he had felt when he wasn't needed. Taking care for Arevan would surely fill that gap. 

But it would be a tight schedule. To be able to attend to Arevan at all hours, he was moved as well into a small, simple room adjoining Arevan's quarters that was similar to the room he had been inhabiting until now.  Shanar truly realized how he had gotten himself into when Arevan turned down any additional servant that Asnam suggested, so Shanar was left with all the duties of caring for him. The only other inhabitants were some beautiful yellow and green birds in gilded cages. 

After Asnam was convinced everything was fine, he left them alone. Shanar, unsure how to start, looked around. "Are you sure you don't want any other people in here with you, your Highness?" he asked.

"Yes," Arevan replied, although he stood a bit forlornly in the center of the room. "I don't like it when strange people are fussing over me."

Shanar stepped closer. "Then I'm very flattered to be an exception," he answered lightly. "Did you have any breakfast this morning? You should eat something before we start."

"Start with what?"

"You lessons, of course. I'll teach you to read and write, and some history and geography as well. As I understand it, you didn't have any lessons so far?"

Arevan made a face. "No. Father told me a a bit about the city's history, but it's boring beside the stories about the wars with the sessera. Have you ever seen a sessera, a real sand demon?"

Shanar shook his head. "No. I was still a baby when my family came here. My mother gave birth to me on the way to Al'Menara, a day after Shir'Murad was destroyed by the sessera. And I don't think I want to see a real sand demon. They must be gruesome."

"When I'm grown up, I'll be a great warrior," Arevan announced, face grim. "And then I'm going out into the desert and kill them all to avenge my father!"

"But even warriors must learn other things besides swordplay," Shanar argued. "Ask your uncle, Commander Yahezid."

"I don't like him," Arevan grumbled. "I know that he is a great warrior, but he's always looking down at me. I don't think the fighting lessons with him will be any fun."

"Just wait and see. You said you wanted to be a fighter, didn't you? Then you have to learn from the best."

"Don't lecture me!" Arevan hissed. "You're just a slave! I don't have to listen to anything you say!"

"Of course not, your Highness," Shanar replied lightly. "I'll get you some breakfast, and then we start with the lessons."

Arevan hesitated. "Would you... sing a song for me later?" he finally asked.

Shanar smiled. "Of course, your Highness."

 

~>*<~

 

Getting used to his new tasks proved a bit more difficult than S hanar had expected. Lady Taira made  Shanar stay well into the night. Arevan was an early riser, so Shanar had to be up even earlier to serve him breakfast, help him bathe and clothe himself (two things the boy loathed with a passion) and then get him to do some writing and reading tasks. Arevan's attention span was very short, however, and he quickly got bored, so Shanar had to keep it as interesting as possible. After lunch, Arevan took a short nap and then went to his sword lessons with Commander Yahezid, leaving Shanar some time to eat and then get to Lady Taira for her afternoon entertainment. The lady still hadn't let him sing anything, just play the lute. 

In the evenings, he often performed together with Julanar and Sharistani. After the first incident at the dinner table, the Sovereign had refrained from letting Arevan partake in it every time. He had to join the adults once every two weeks, however, and answer questions about his progress. He did so with dignity, albeit with gritted teeth, that had taken a lot of convincing work from Shanar. 

Despite his outbursts, Arevan obeyed Shanar a bit better every day. There truly was hope that the sullen little boy would become a responsible young man one day. There was one thing, however, he insisted on: Shanar had to sing to him each day, usually before sleeping time. Shanar gladly complied, enjoying the way Arevan's pretty eyes glimmered with attention at a heroic ballad and then slowly fall shut during a soft lullaby. 

From the little things Arevan mentioned, Shanar gathered that the fighting lessons weren't going too well. As the commander of the narif'adir, Yahezid surely had other things to do than train his nephew, and had little patience with him. Arevan always returned exhausted from his lessons, often enough with some bruises, feeling frustrated and tired. Shanar kept on his toes in these moments, suggesting scented oils to ease the tense muscles, something sweet to eat, and a song.

"I spoke with Grandfather last evening," Arevan told him one day after a particularly nasty afternoon that had left him irritable and on the verge of tears. Shanar had taken half an hour to calm the boy down, kneading his tense shoulders, and was now sitting with Arevan's head in his lap, gently stroking his hair. "I don't want to train with Uncle Yahezid anymore."

"What did he say?", Shanar asked quietly.

"Grandfather has set his mind on it. He said that I have to learn from the best. But I'm not learning at all!"

"Maybe you have to have some more patience. No one was born a great sword master. Everyone started out as you do."

"But Uncle Yahezid scolds me all the time! I can't do anything right. And he hits me with the wooden practice sword." Arevan held out his hand for Shanar to inspect. The knuckles were badly bruised. "I feel clumsy and stupid."

Shanar took his hand and gently kissed the fingers like he had always done when one of his siblings had come home with a bruise. "You just need time."

Arevan looked up to him, obviously struggling with something. "Can you come with me next time... and cheer me on?"

"If you think that it'll help, I come with you. But Commander Yahezid doesn't care for... my people at all. He might forbid it."

"I don't care! There are some huge tapestries on the walls of the fighting area. You just hide behind them," the boy decided.

"Your Highness, if I have to hide, I can't cheer you on," Shanar replied with a laugh, but quickly got serious again. He would not dare and risk Yahezid's anger. "I'll come with you, but only if your uncle allows it."

"Alright. Now sing for me?" Arevan asked.

Shanar smiled and began.

 

My sweetheart is a hero

Riding out to fight

Storming with his sword raised

Coming home at night

 

My sweetheart is a hero

Loved by young and old

But his heart is all mine

Pure and warm as gold

 

My sweetheart is a hero

Killed by a foes' hand

I mourn his loss until I

Follow where he went

 

~>*<~

 

When the next lesson came, he accompanied Arevan to the training area located in one of the courtyards. An arcade decorated with tapestries surrounded it, allowing spectators to sit in the shadow and watch.

Yahezid looked up briefly and just continued to do his warming-up on the sandy ground, so Shanar decided he was allowed to stay. Arevan bit his lower lip and stepped into the area to warm himself up as well. Shanar sat down underneath the arcade, hoping that his presence would really help the boy and not irritate Yahezid.

He wasn't alone, however. Yahezid's consort Ghajadin was there as well, flanked by servants that served fresh fruits and waved huge fans to cool the air around him. Up close, he was even more beautiful, his silvery curls surrounding his face like a halo. When he noticed Shanar's stare, he smiled.

"Come here," he ordered in a friendly voice. 

Shanar went closer and bowed deeply. "I'm sorry, Sir, I didn't meant to be rude."

"I'm used to it," Ghajadin replied with a laugh. "But I suppose you get your fair share of glances as well, especially with your people being popular servants at the moment."

"I'm not...used to that kind of attention, Sir," Shanar murmured. "I prefer to be noticed for my work."

"Yes yes, you're that bard, I remember seeing you play the lute. You're now singing lullabies to our cute little prince, hm? I thought he's too old to have a nanny."

Shanar smiled. "I'm his manservant and tutor, Sir."

"And he needs some moral support today, I suppose. The poor little guy isn't much of a fighter, I'm afraid," Ghajadin tilted his head in a pitying way. "Yahezid is an excellent fighter and trains his men personally, so I guess the family's legendary talent for swordplay skips a generation."

"I think that Prince Arevan is still very young," Shanar answered. "And he's been through a lot after his father's death."

"Oh yes, that was a tragedy. I liked Prince Haruf. He was a great man. He and Yahezid were more like brothers than cousins; I can still see them walking side by side." Ghajadin sighed. "Oh, look, they start the practice. Do cheer the boy on, will you? I really feel sorry for him. My Yahezid can be a bit ruthless when it comes to training, but he can't have any unfit swordsmen in the narif'adir - or as the next Sovereign."

Ruthless was a mild understatement; Yahezid shouted at the boy to watch his legs and raise his sword arm higher and put more weight into a swing while he relentless decked him with hits that Arevan was barely able to block. Shanar had only had the most basic of weapons training from his father in his youth, but he clearly saw that this way, it was no wonder that Arevan wasn't making any progress. Seeing him like this was breaking his heart and at the same time making him despise Yahezid even more. Just as Arevan was driven back again, stumbling and almost falling, he couldn't stop himself.

"You Highness, don't retreat!" he shouted without thinking. "Put all your weight into the block! And then try a counterattack!"

Both Yahezid and Arevan were startled for a moment, but then the boy's expression turned from desperation to resolve. He leaned forward at the next hit, then ducked and took a strike at Yahezid's leg. The wooden practice sword audibly clashed against the commander's leather boots.

Arevan's triumph didn't last long, however. Yahezid's next blow sent Arevan's sword flying. Arevan stumbled and fell backwards into the sand. 

Yahezid raised his practice sword as if to strike at the defenseless boy, but held himself back at the last moment. "Take your weapon and get up!" he barked. "The lesson is over for today. One single hit doesn't count. It's the strike that disarms or kills your enemy that's important!"

Arevan nodded, picking himself up and grabbing the practice sword to put it away. His bare arms were badly scratched, Shanar noticed. But Arevan's look had changed: The uncertainty in his eyes was gone. He now had a sense of achievement and some hope that one day, he might be able to stand up to his uncle. 

"A lucky shot," Ghajadin whispered to Shanar. "Or maybe Yahezid let him take that blow."

Shanar didn't reply. He was sure that it had been neither. Although he was proud to see Arevan finding new hope, he now felt the commander's hot, angry gaze on him. Yahezid was without a doubt blaming Shanar for interrupting the training with his call and breaking his own concentration. Luckily, Ghajadin was there to distract him with a cool drink, some fruits and gentle chatter, so Shanar quickly followed Arevan to take care of the bruises. He just hoped he could avoid Yahezid until he had forgotten about this incident.

 


	7. Chapter 5 - Blessing

 

"You should be more careful," Sharistani scolded him as Shanar told her about the event later in the evening. They had once again performed for Lady Taira and her court and were now returning to their respective quarters deep at night. "Lord Ghajadin is nice, as I said, but he won't stand up to protect you if the Commander has a grudge against you."

"I feared as much," Shanar murmured. "But all I did was cheer Prince Arevan on as he had asked me to. I had no idea I would anger the Commander with it. It was a stupid coincidence."

She regarded him carefully. "Do you really think so? As far as I see it, you have a huge influence on that boy. This could be dangerous one day."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that when Prince Arevan becomes the next Sovereign and you have his ear, it will make people jealous - especially those who seek power," Sharistani clarified. "I've been at court long enough to see all those petty little intrigues. Standing out too much is always a dangerous thing, especially for a slave."

"So how do you manage?" Shanar asked. "You're by far the most beautiful."

She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, like his sisters used to do. "Thanks. But I'm well protected, don't worry. There's someone... a very special man watching out for me. It was difficult in the beginning, but not anymore."

Shanar blinked. "Really? Who is it?"

"Shush!" Sharistani's skin didn't hide a blush as well as Shanar's own complexion. "A lady needs her secrets. Good night!" 

They had reached an intersection in the corridors, and Shanar watched Sharistani saunter off. He was happy to hear that she had someone protecting her - and that someone obviously held a special place in her heart. Like Shanar, Sharistani had to work for ten rainy-seasons to pay off her debts, and no doubt had the men in this palace been giving her lots of grief.

Just as Shanar was about to turn around the next corner, hands grabbed him from behind. He tried to struggle, but they closed over his mouth and nose, successfully muffling any cry for help. He was pulled backwards into a smaller corridor and then pushed face first against a wall with a warning hand on his neck. His hands were pressed to his chest, so any kind of defense was impossible. 

"He's really pretty, although he's one of them," an unfamiliar male voice remarked. "I don't care for mehan'murad at all, but I'll make an exception this time."

"You missed something," another replied. "Did you never get your hands on that girl? A shame Master Asnam claimed her. But I've been watching this one for some time." The voice drew closer as the man put his mouth right next to Shanar's ear. "You behave, you hear me? Just stay nice and quiet and maybe you'll enjoy it. Although I heard that you even talked back to the Commander himself. Seems that you like trouble."

Both men laughed, and Shanar felt another hand at the small of his back, ready to pull down his pants.

"What are you two doing?"

A third voice, sharp and commanding, coming from the other end of the hallway. The hands on Shanar stopped.

"We're off duty, Sir," one replied defensively. "A soldier is entitled to a little fun."

"Not on my watch! Get out of my sight before I tell the Commander!"

Shanar was free the next moment, sinking to his knees with a cough, trying to catch his breath. He started as gentle hands pulled him up again, looking up into the face of an unfamiliar soldier. The markings on his armor told him that this was a lieutenant. It was a young man, not much older than Shanar himself, with friendly, warm eyes.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, thank you, sir. Just... a bit shaken."

"You shouldn't wander alone through the palace at this time of night. There are always some soldiers who think they own everything." The lieutenant's gaze darkened in anger. "Sadly, I can't catch them every time. Come on, I'll take you to your quarters."

Shanar nodded gratefully. "I'm Prince Arevan's personal servant, so it's that way."

"The Prince's servant? It's getting worse and worse. I'll make a report to the Commander."

"No, please!" Shanar grabbed his arm. "I don't want Commander's attention on this. I'll be more careful next time."

"Are you sure?" The soldier looked at him worriedly. "Well, if you think so. But if there's any trouble again, you can find me at the guards' rooms. I'm Lieutenant Kavarim Di'Uzra."

"I will. Thank you, sir."

With still shaky legs, Shanar let Lieutenant Di'Uzra accompany him to his quarters.

 

 

~>*<~

 

"Hey, Shanar! I asked you a question!" Arevan's impatient little voice broke through Shanar's foggy and worried mind the next morning He had barely been sleeping, waking up several times from horrible dreams about millions of slimy hands on his body. "How do I get this calculation right? It doesn't make any sense this way."

"I'm sorry, your Highness," Shanar quickly apologized and turned his attention back to Arevan's parchment. "You have to add a four, not a three. See here?"

Arevan scrunched up his nose. "It's still not making sense. Shanar, it's not like you at all to be this distracted. Are you sick?"

"No, I'm fine, just a bit tired. And, well... I miss my family," Shanar said the first thing that came to mind, and it wasn't even a lie. There was no way he would tell anybody about what had happened last night.

"Tell me about them," Arevan demanded to Shanar's surprise. "Asnam said that you sold yourself for your family. You were poor, right? I can't imagine that at all."

Shanar nodded. "Yes, we were poor. I have five siblings, three sisters and two brothers, for which I have been taken care of since our parents died. My oldest sister Alia was about to marry when..."

Arevan listened with obvious interest as Shanar told him how he ended up in the palace as a slave. So far, the boy had never asked about anything personal, but Shanar saw it as a good sign. Arevan seemed to be starting to care for something else besides himself.

"I know that slaves are usually not allowed to visit their families. But you could write them a letter," Arevan suggested when Shanar had ended. "I'll ask Asnam to deliver it to your sister."

"Thank you." Shanar smiled. "That would be a great consolation. Do you think my sister will be allowed to write back to me?"

"I'll make it an order," Arevan declared. "And since I've been this gracious, I don't have to do any more work today!" He stood up and ran off with a grin.

Shanar didn't stop him and just watched him play. His heart felt already lighter at the prospect of hearing from Alia. She must be already married by now. Inside the palace, the change of seasons was less noticeable, but it was already well into Sowing-Time. The weeks had passed so quickly.

 

~>*<~

 

Arevan kept true to his promise. Shanar wrote a long, yet unspecific letter to Alia that was scrutinized by Master Asnam and then accepted, and the next morning, he already held an answer in his hands. Arevan, proud of himself for having the idea with the letter in the first place, insisted on Shanar reading it aloud.

 

"My dearest brother, 

I'm so glad to hear that you are doing well. We all miss you terribly, and my greatest sadness is over the fact you weren't there to give my hand to Sehan when we got married a few weeks ago. It was a beautiful ceremony at the temple of Shariha. I wore the dress I've been embroidering for so long, and Sehan smiled at me like I was the only person in the world. Even the twins were quiet until the priestess had finished. Speaking of Akil and Siran, they are a handful as always, but Jeana is taking better care of them. She's gotten a lot more responsible and careful since she broke her arm. She's a great help since I'm with Sehan at the fruits stall all day. We started out very well and have a good business running already.

I recently visited Nimi at the temple; she seems to be very happy there. You should see her in her miniature version of the acolytes' robes. 

My dear Shanar, everything turned out so well for all of us, just as you had hoped. As you wished, I didn't tell the others the truth about where you went, but our bright little Nimi figured it out for herself and kept quiet. I pray to all the gods that you can find comfort in this knowledge and that, somehow, we can see each other again soon. 

 

All my love,

Alia"

 

"She seems to miss you a lot," Arevan remarked. "I miss my sister, too. We barely see each other."

Shanar nodded, hastily rubbing away a tear. "I'm sorry, your Highness. Maybe I can talk to Master Asnam to ask Lady Taira to let you tow spend some time together again."

"Would you do that? Liyel and I used to play hide and seek all the time in the gardens..." He sounded like it had been ages ago, not just some weeks. "I'm alone now," he suddenly stated. "There's no one left who cares for me."

"Your Highness, that's not true," Shanar argued. "Your family loves you!"

"No, they don't. All Grandfather cares for is that I'm obedient and learning well.  Uncle Yahezid is more strict than ever while training me, although I'm finally starting to learn. Aunt Taira smiles and pets my head, and that's it. And Liyel is a grown-up now. Even if I see her again, she might not even want to play with me any more."

"She will, I'm sure of it," Shanar replied. He stepped closer and gently turned the boy around. "And your grandfather loves you very much, although he can't show it. You aren't the only one who lost someone. He just lost his son. I don't think there's anything more terrible than losing one's own child. But he has to stay strong to serve his p eople."

Arevan looked up at him, eyes teary. "I don't know... what to think anymore. And what about you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're a slave. You have to do what you're told. If I order you to love me..."

"Your Highness, please listen to me." Shanar knelt down to be on the same eye level with Arevan. "No one can order anyone to feel love or hate. People can pretend to feel those things, but it will never be real. But you have to believe me when I tell you that I do love you as if you were my own little brother. And I will take care of you as long as you need me."

"I believe you." Arevan managed a weak smile, then he pulled Shanar into a surprisingly strong embrace. "Now let's get breakfast."

"I can't fetch it if you're crushing my neck like this, your Highness," Shanar replied with a relieved laugh, returning the embrace. 

 

Shanar's request for the siblings to spend some time together again wasn't falling on deaf ears. Asnam thought it to be a good idea as well, so one afternoon a week later, Arevan was allowed to join his great-aunt's circle. Shanar accompanied him to the lady's parlor where he was to sit on one of the cushions next to his sister. Princess Liyel's smile was teary as she quickly embraced her little bother. Lady Taira smiled indulgently at them and then motioned to Shanar to play a tune. She soon turned her attention to her guests and forgot all about Arevan and Liyel who enjoyed their precious moments together, lost deep in a whispered conversation, hands clasped tightly. Shanar smiled and played on, determined to make this a regular meeting. 

 

~>*<~

 

As the seasons changed again, a firm routine had been established. Arevan celebrated his ninth birthday, was allowed to spend time now and then with his sister, improved in history and calculus, and returned bruised as ever from his sword training. But as he had said himself, he was making progress. Ever since that day he had scored a first hit, he was confident to become a good swordsman one day and endured Yahezid's harsh methods without any more complaints. Shanar saw all of this as a good sign. 

Shanar was also allowed to continue his correspondence with Alia. This way, he learned that she was pregnant with her first child and hoped for a boy she could name after her beloved older brother. Although he was so happy for her, he knew that he would meet his future nephew not until he was already nine rainy-seasons old. Alia would surely have more children by then, and Nimi, Jeana, and the boys would be adults. So much time lost... But there was nothing he could do except find consolation in knowing that his family was doing well and he was fulfilling an important duty by caring for Arevan.

Thankfully, Shanar was able to stay completely out of Yahezid's way so there was no further trouble. Passing soldiers in the hallways, however, was always an uneasy thing - Shanar could feel their stares in his back. But they kept their distance, and he was careful not to go alone through the hallways at night. The invisible protection of Lieutenant Di'Uzra was still in the air.

 

~>*<~

 

The relative peace was disturbed, however, when Draught-Time began. The high, cool rooms of the palace kept the heat out for the most part, but Draught-Time was also the time of sand storms. Although the city was protected by high walls, dust crept into every corner as hot winds were rushing though the streets. Not even the palace courtyards were safe from it, and Shanar felt the need to bathe every time he had to cross one of them. Everyone was either lethargic or irritable which made teaching Arevan difficult again.The boy was unable to concentrate properly and complained about everything. At least the training sessions had come to a stop until the weather would be bearable again.

But just as the first cool winds gusted through the windows, Arevan suddenly fell ill. 

"Master Asnam, you have to fetch a healer!" Shanar had called for him as soon as he had noticed that Arevan was feverish. This had pulled him back immediately to the moment when his mother had taken ill.

"I'll send for Nuriven, the High Priestess of Adan herself," Asnam replied grimly. He had taken one look at Arevan's red face and glassy eyes to know that it was serious. "You keep his head cool and get him to drink as much water as possible. Draught-fever is not a matter taken lightly." 

Shanar nodded gratefully.

True to his word, Asnam returned soon with a pretty young priestess that Shanar recognized from the temple of Adan. Although it had felt like an eternity, Shanar knew that they had hurried up. In the meantime, he had dabbed Arevan's sweaty face with a wet cloth and tried to get him to drink some more water, but Arevan had fallen into a state of delirium. Shanar was softly singing to him, hoping that it would soothe the boy.

 

Can you see the stars

Shining in the sky?

Shariha loves her children,

makes hearts and souls fly.

 

Can you see the suns set,

Burning white and red?

The sons of Shariha

Going back to bed.

 

Can you see the moons

Glowing in the night?

Shariha's pearly necklace,

shining clear and bright.

 

Can you see the stars

Falling from the sky?

Shariha sends her blessings

from above so high.

 

Can you see my love

Shining in my eyes?

Like Shariha's blessing,

My love never dies.

 

 

Priestess Nuriven knelt down beside the bed and put her hand on Arevan's forehead. "Get more fresh water," she ordered Shanar. "Master Asnam, see to it that we are not disturbed. The boy needs rest. And keep anyone else away. You know that draught-fever is infectious."

Asnam nodded and left. When Shanar returned with fresh water, he said, "Thank you for coming so quickly, High Priestess. I was so worried about the prince. Can you help him? I... I lost my mother to the draught-fever."

"I will do everything I can," Nuriven replied. "He is a strong boy, and you sent for me before it could get worse. When did he fell ill?"

"This morning," Shanar told her. "He woke up and didn't fell well; the fever rose quickly. I've never seen draught-fever spread so quickly. And he didn't have contact with anyone who might have infected him."

Nuriven nodded. "This is strange indeed. I wonder..." She didn't continue, but pulled out a strange crystal from her pocket. It was round, flat and polished, set into a metal frame that looked familiar to Shanar. The design, he realized after a moment, was the same like his pendant. The priestess held the crystal in front of her left eye and looked through it at the boy, then frowned.

"This is no draught-fever," she murmured, her sharp eyes boring into Shanar. "Now listen carefully. I think that the Prince has been poisoned. "

"Poisoned? How can you tell? And why would anyone poison a child?" Shanar gasped. 

"One thing after another," Nuriven held out her hand to silence him. "The crystal helped me identify the poison. We'll talk later about this - and about a certain object I think you call your own. But Prince Arevan is more important at the moment. I don't know why or by whom he was poisoned. You have to find that out yourself later. What I need now is an antidote. Go and get some greenroot, thistleberries, rhoada flowers and water lilies. And get a mortar. Now go!"

Shanar got up and ran out of the room to get the plants. Greenroot and thistleberries were rare and exotic herbs found at the kitchen, while rhoada flowers and water lilies grew outside in the courtyards and ponds. Thanks to the constant watering of the courtyards, they were blooming all rainy-season around. 

When he got back with the ingredients, Nuriven pulverized them and mixed them with water. Together, they fed Arevan the antidote. 

"Now we have to wait and give him more when he wakes up," she said. "As I said, he is a strong boy. I think he will make it."

Shanar gently stroked Arevan's wet hair from his face. "I'm going to find out who did this," he whispered. "Please, tell me of this poison."

"It was mixed into his food," Nuriven answered. "You have to investigate among the kitchen staff. This was no accident. This particular poison is extracted from a rare plant called shamor leaf that couldn't have been used by accident. Someone wanted this to look like draught-fever. Someone inside this palace wanted to murder the prince and make it look like a common illness."

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 6 - Secrets

"Someone inside this palace? But I don't understand. Who could hold a grudge against an innocent child?" Shanar was so worried and confused that he wasn't able to make any sense of it.

Nuriven shook her head. "No one is holding a grudge. Prince Arevan is far too young to have made any enemies. Someone wanted the Sovereign's rightful heir out of the way. That is the only logical answer."

Shanar sighed. "I'm sorry, Priestess, but this is not making any sense to me. Nevertheless, I'm going to find out who wants to harm the prince. If those people realize he survived, they will surely try again. I have to protect him."

She smiled sadly. "I'm sure you will. But you have to be careful whom you trust." She hesitated. "I hope he will be strong enough because my powers are limited. Even with that..." She pulled out the crystal again. 

"What exactly is it?" Shanar asked. His mind was still reeling, but he wanted some answers.

"What I'm about to tell you cannot leave this room," she replied solemnly. "I'm only telling you this because you are also a bearer of one of Adan's holy artifacts. You have something similar to my crystal on your person, am I right?"

Slowly, Shanar pulled out the pendant and showed it to her. "The design is similar - I never thought there were more like these. It's an old family heirloom. An... artifact of Adan, you say?"

Nuriven nodded. "I didn't know that there was a another one existing. The main temple of Adan at Al'Hidris guards a wristband that is able to heal open wounds. My crystal enables me to look inside a person's body to see the illness or w ound clearly. And your pendant influences a person's soul, doesn't it? I felt its power when you sang to the child. It feels the same when I use the crystal."

"I... I don't know what you mean. " Shanar turned the pendant in his hands, looking at the foreign symbols. The metal felt strangely hot under his fingers. "What kind of power?"

"Did nothing strange ever happen when you sang or talked while wearing this pendant?" She asked. "Think carefully."

Shanar tried to remember: The deeply moved crowd at the temple, Arevan's calmness whenever he heard a song, even his outburst of courage when Shanar cheered him on at the training area. His grandfather's tale about the pendant. The way his throat seemed to grow warm when he put his feelings into a song. "My songs might have an influence on the Prince", he allowed. "But that has nothing to do with magic items."

"Holy items," Nuriven corrected him. "They carry the god's own power. There are only a few people chosen to use them, descending from special bloodlines. There are legends that once, Adan walked on Badal'Shari disguised as a mortal and fell in love with a woman. Their children carried the blood of the god, enabling them and their descendants to use the artifacts. For many rainy-seasons, my family served as priests and priestesses at Adan's temple and carried the crystal. My younger brother traveled to Al'Hidris to learn more about the wristband, but there hadn't been anyone able to use it for decades. He was able to, however, and now serves as High Priest as the main temple, although he is barely of age. And you must be descended from that special bloodline as well."

"The pendant has been in my family for a long time. My grandfather told me stories about how our forbears were able to influence people with it, but I thought it to be a bedtime story," Shanar murmured. "Do you really think it has something to do with our blood?"

Nuriven held out the crystal to him. "Look through it and tell me what you see."

Carefully, Shanar took the artifact and held it in front of his eye. Then he looked at Arevan - and gasped in shock. The boy was bathed in a strange light. Red lights flooded through his body, and spots of blue flickered on his chest right above his heart. A greenish light, slower and somehow sickly to look at, was spreading from his stomach, mixing with the red streams. 

"Do you believe me now?" Nuriven asked gently, taking the crystal back. It had grown warm, glowing faintly.

Shanar nodded, bewildered. This was no dream, and he wasn't going crazy.

"Are you going to take my pendant away?" he finally asked. "If it is truly a holy artifact, then another priest should have it, not a lowly slave like me."

Nuriven laughed, shaking her head. "It was given to your family for a reason, and I'm not going to interfere with the will of the gods. But you have to be very careful. That pendant's power could be used to harm people. What would happen if you sing a song of death and destruction? My crystal just makes the invisible visible, but your pendant has much greater power. You might even be able to enslave a person's soul with it."

"I would never do such a thing!" Shanar protested. 

"I believe that you are a good and modest person; great power only belongs into the hands of those who won't abuse it. But you have to guard it well. Never take it off, even for a moment. There might be other people out there able to use the artifacts that could harbor ill intentions."

"Has anyone tried to misuse the other artifacts in the past?" Shanar asked her.

Nuriven nodded grimly. "My brother wrote to me about stories that the wristband can be used to cause fatal wounds, not heal them, if the bearer's will was strong and his feelings dark enough. I can't imagine my crystal being used to harm anyone, but a person could chose not to use the knowledge it gives and let a patient die although one knew the reason for the illness. Every kind of power can be misused."

"I understand. And I promise to guard the pendant and never tell anyone about it. But I've sung in public a lot. Could a person with this special bloodline know that my songs were more than just songs?" This very thought was still confusing.

"I don't know; maybe if someone was looking for it," Nuriven replied. "But not only your songs could be laced with the pendant's power - it might be enough if you just talked with great emotion."

Shanar took a deep breath. "I shouted encouragement to the Prince during training and he scored a hit for the first time. I thought it to be a good thing, but... what if I already misused it? Sweet gods, I don't even know if I'm truly believing all of this."

"You didn't do it out of malice or hatred. You wanted to protect him," the priestess reminded him. "The artifacts are affected by strong feelings as well as the bearer's will. But now you know what I meant by abusing power, Shanar. Always remember that."

Shanar nodded, putting the pendant back under the hem of his shirt. It was still hot against his skin. "I won't forget it. Thank you."

 

~>*<~

 

Shanar mulled over Nuriven's words for the rest of the day. Arevan's breathing grew stronger, and his fever broke in the afternoon. Shanar was able to get some tea and soup into him Arevan woke up, as well as more of the antidote. The worst was over - for now. But there still was the question of who might want to hurt Arevan. Shanar thought of a plan to investigate among the kitchen staff and find out who had brought the poison to the palace.

And then there was his pendant, of course. Shanar was still feeling like this was some kind of a dream when he thought about the things Nuriven had told him. But her crystal's power had been real, and his own strange experiences made perfect sense now. Still, it was barely believable. But even more than the truth about his pendant was the thought of misusing its power somehow. What if his songs somehow hurt Arevan unintentionally? Was soothing his troubled heart and restless little soul truly the right thing to do? Arevan had been listening to Shanar's song every day...

Shanar had no answer at the moment. Before, he might have sung to Arevan to comfort him. Now, he stayed silent.

 

Asnam came by in the evening to see how things were. "The Sovereign and Princess Liyel were very worried, but I told them not to come over here for fear of infection."

"I grew immune by caring for my sick mother," Shanar replied. "Thank you for fetching the priestess so quickly. She saved his life."

Asnam's stern face softened for a second as he looked down at the sleeping boy. "I lost someone to the draught-fever as well," he finally said. "My wife."

Shanar looked up in surprise at this private information. So far, Asnam had never spoken of himself. "I'm very sorry," he whispered. "Children survive it for the most part, but adults... My mother died as well."

Asnam nodded. "It was a good thing you made me send for the priestess this quickly. I was right in trusting you, Shanar. Most slaves coming to the palace only think of passing their time as comfortable as possible or strive to gain some influence with the nobles. Looking at you for the first time, I would have thought you threw yourself at the next influential woman or man you saw. I even expected you to make eyes at Lady Taira to gain her favor."

"I really wasn't..."

"I know you didn't. As I said, you've long earned my respect." With a last, almost gentle look at the prince, Asnam left the room. 

Shanar looked after him. He had debated whether to tell Asnam of the poison, but he wasn't sure whom he could trust - although his heart told him that Asnam would be his most valuable ally in the palace.

 

~>*<~

 

Arevan was weak and sleepy for a few more days, but finally got his usual energy back. Rain-Time was flooding the courtyards, the rain a constant curtain of translucent drops outside the windows and doors. Since playing outside was out of the question, Arevan quickly grew restless, and Shanar thought it best to get back to his usual lessons. This way, Arevan was occupied for at least a short time. His interest in history was getting stronger ever since Shanar had gotten him to read about his namesake, the great warrior Arevan the Red, and his great-great-grandmother Lady Liyel, the first and only female Sovereign of Al'Menara. Stories about great battles and noble deeds grabbed Arevan's attention for the most part, but it was a good way to get him interested in politics as well. As long as Arevan was out to become as famous a hero as his predecessors had been, it was a good thing. The stories about less heroic characters of the past would come much later.

As soon as Arevan was doing better, Lady Taira ordered Shanar back to entertain her. He was to come to her parlor the next day, so this was the last chance to get a good look at the kitchen. The cooks and kitchen maids looked up in surprise as he entered.

"Do you need some remedial herbs again?" an older woman with a commanding air around her asked him. By the looks of her, she was head cook. Shanar vaguely remembered that he had helped him last time he had been here to fetch the ingredients for the antidote. 

"Yes," he replied, deciding to attack the matter head-on. "I'm looking for shamor-leaf. Do you have it here?"

"Never heard of it," the woman replied, wiping her hands on her apron. "How does it look?"

"Small, bluish leaves with a bitter smell," Shanar replied, remembering what Nuriven had told him of the poison. 

The head cook looked at her staff. "Does anyone know of those leaves?"

Shanar studied their faces, but there was only confusion and ignorance. "Is all of your staff present today?" he asked. "I could come back later if anyone is out today."

"This is all of my staff," the head cook replied. "Except for Sadi. That stupid girl quit a few days ago. She was one of my kitchen maids. You might have seen her a few times. She's the one responsible for taking Prince Arevan's food to his quarters."

Shanar felt the hair at the back of his head rise as he remembered an unremarkable, shy young woman handing him trays of food at the door. "She quit - so she's not a slave? Where does she live?"

"In the south quarter, with her family. Her father is dead, and she has to take care of a sick mother and two little siblings. I took her in out of pity a rainy-season ago, but she proved to be a good worker. I'm truly disappointed in her. I thought she liked the work here. But she said her mother was getting better now, and nobody marries a kitchen maid. I guess some stupid boy turned her head the wrong way," she scoffed.

"It seems so. Thank you, Mistress," Shanar replied. "And one more thing - the prince complained about his food being cold these last days."

The head cook's face darkened before she turned to a nearby young man and gave him a sharp slap on the cheek. "You and your dawdling! Flirting with the chamber maids on your way again, have you? - Don't worry, Master Shanar. I'll bring the food myself in the future."

 

~>*<~

 

There was no way for Shanar to get out of the palace to find Sadi, but he was sure that the girl had been somehow coerced or bribed to mix the poison with Arevan's food. Since her family situation was as bad as Shanar's had been, he could very well imagine her being amenable to promises of money. The girl might not even have known that the shamor leaf had been a deadly poison. 

In his next letter to Alia, Shanar mentioned Sadi as an acquaintance he missed and asked her to inquire after her fate: Alia's and Sehan's fruit stall was located at the south quarter. 

Alia's answer came three days later.

 

"Of course I inquired after this girl Sadi as you requested. As luck would have it, her neighbor is a regular at our stall. He told me that Sadi's mother has been sick for a long time; one of those rare sicknesses only very expensive remedies can cure. According to her neighbor, Sadi inherited money and a house from a distant relative living in Al'Hidris. In fact, her mother got well so quickly that the whole family could afford to leave the city and join a caravan to Al'Hidris. It's strange, however, that she didn't tell you about this if you were a friend? Tell me, dear brother, did she toy with your heart? I hope not! You deserve a lot better than that!"

 

The last line almost made him smile, but the information about Sadi was less funny. Now he had no chance of ever getting to talk to her. Whoever hired her to poison Arevan had invested a lot of money and resources in getting her and her family out of the city and out of reach. Shanar decided that this person must be a noble at court. There was no other explanation. He also remembered what Nuriven had said: that someone wanted the Sovereign's heir out of the way. This meant that Arevan was in the way of someone else aiming for the throne.

And there was only one other candidate left to be the Sovereign's successor: Yahezid. 

Shanar felt a cold shudder run down his spine. He could think of no worse enemy. And he had no idea how he could protect Arevan from him. One wrong strike with the practice blade, made to look like an accident... a fall down some stairs... another bribed servant putting a poisonous animal in the room... There were a hundred opportunities to kill a little boy. 

No, Shanar decided, he couldn't protect Arevan on his own. He had to take someone into his confidence immediately. 

 

~>*<~

 

"Sharistani, can I talk to you for a moment?" Shanar asked after they had played for Lady Taira again the next evening. "It's very important."

"Of course! You looked so worried all day. I heard that Prince Arevan was sick, but is feeling better now. Are you still concerned about him?" she asked.

Shanar nodded. "Come on, let's sit outside. The rain has finally stopped."

They sat down in one of the little courtyards. The air was humid, but cool; droplets of water fell down from the trees' leaves, making soft splashing noises. Somewhere, a caged bird was singing.

Sharistani took his hand, frowning. "What is it, Shanar?"

Shanar took a deep breath. "The prince didn't have draught-fever. He was poisoned." Softly, he recounted what he had found out so far while Sharistani was listening with wide eyes.

"I want to talk to Master Asnam about this," he finished. "I think he can help me. But can I trust him? You know him far better than I do. What should I do?"

"You can trust him,"Sharistani replied instantly. "He is a good man and loyal to the Sovereign's family. I think he can tell you what to do. But Shanar, do you really think that Commander Yahezid has something to do with it?"

"He's the only one benefiting if Arevan dies. Of course I can't prove it..."

"And no one would believe a slave anyway," Sharistani finished for him. "You would only get into more trouble. Go talk to Asnam."

"He's the one protecting you, right?" Shanar asked, suddenly remembering what the soldiers had said. 

The young woman blushed. "Yes, he is. I had a lot of... unwanted attention when I began to work at the palace. One day, he came to me and asked me to become his mistress. He would see to it that no one else would touch me again. I didn't hesitate for a second."

"Is he treating you well?" Shanar asked. 

"He is. That is...he actually never asked for anything. I guess he just felt sorry for me," she whispered.

"But you want him to ask for more, don't you?" Shanar grinned as Sharistani blushed again. "You really like him!"

"Shush! Yes, I do," Sharistani sighed. "I admit that I fell in love with him. He's acting so stern and cold all the time, but there is a gentle and caring side to him that he rarely shows. But I guess that he never got over the death of his wife. She died four rainy-seasons ago."

Shanar put his arms around her shoulders and pulled her close. "I doubt that he'll resist your charm forever. But I'm very happy to know that you have someone protecting you that you care so much about. And if you trust him, I'm going to trust him as well."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear readers, I wish you a merry Christmas and a happy new year! I'll be taking an extended holiday break from updating, so the next chapter will be online on January 16th or 17th 2019. Take care!


	9. Chapter 7 -Brothers in Arms

 

 

Shanar caught Asnam the next early afternoon before he had to join Lady Taira's circle again, and they sat down in one of the courtyards. Outside, Shanar felt safer somehow and in less danger to be overheard. Asnam listened with a frown and didn't say anything until Shanar was finished. Then he asked the one question that mattered: "Can you prove any of this?"

"Priestess Nuriven will confirm that Prince Arevan was poisoned with shamor leaf," Shanar replied. "But unless we get Sadi to confess..."

"We won't find her. This sounds like an elaborate plot. If she told even her neighbor that she went to Al'Hidris, chances are she went anywhere but there. We need more than that, and we don't have anything at the moment." Asnam's sharp gaze seemed to pierce right through Shanar. "Furthermore, we can't tell anyone else. If the person behind this finds out we know it was poison, he will draw back. But if not, he will try again, and we have a chance to catch him or get some real proof sooner or later. Then we can go to the Sovereign and accuse him."

"This means using Prince Arevan as bait!" Shanar shot back. "With all due respect, Master Asnam, but I think it's too risky."

"It's risky either way as long as there is a unknown person out there for the Prince's blood," Asnam replied grimly. "But maybe he will give up altogether if he sees that Arevan is far better protected."

"So you don't think that Commander Yahezid could be behind this?" Shanar asked.

"I think it's very unlikely. The Commander might be a hard man, but I've never seen him be unfair or use underhanded methods."

Shanar hesitated before he spoke again. "But I did. Master Asnam, I know it's not my place to accuse a member of the ruling family, but Commander Yahezid... I met him a few rainy-seasons back," Shanar told Asnam of his father's unfortunate death and the way Yahezid had denied Shanar's family any kind of support back then.

"I know that he hates your kind, Shanar, and I heard of the incident at the training area. You hold a grudge against him, which is completely understandable. Nevertheless, you cannot allow your feelings to cloud your judgment in this," Asnam warned. "We have to keep a cool head here."

"Yes, I know. But I'm still worried that the Commander might hurt Arevan during the training sessions. Couldn't we at least get him another teacher? It's also rather discouraging for the Prince."

Asnam nodded. "I think that can be arranged. Commander Yahezid has other things to do than train his nephew, and he complains about it all the time. I'll try to get an idea into Taira's head," he decided. "And I'll see to it that you get more privileges to protect the Prince more effectively. You've earned it."

Shanar sighed. "But how can I protect him properly when I spend half the night at Lady Taira's?"

"You can leave that to me as well," Asnam promised.

 

~>*<~

 

True to his word, Asnam convinced the Sovereign via Lady Taira that Commander Yahezid's time was far too precious to waste on weapons training with a boy any longer, especially in trying times like these. The Sovereign, Shanar learned, was relying more heavily on Yahezid since Prince Haruf's death. To his surprise, Asnam himself was appointed as the new weapons trainer, and, even more surprisingly, Shanar was to join them. If he was the one to protect Arevan day and night from now on, he had to refresh his memories concerning the use of a sword. Asnam had also arranged for Shanar to be armed at all times, a high privilege for a slave. 

Arevan was happy about the new arrangement, and having a trusted companion in training lifted his spirits even further. Shanar's fighting abilities were rusty and on a basic level at best, so they were actually even matched. Asnam mercilessly pointed out mistakes and was as strict as Yahezid, but neither brutal nor discouraging, so both were learning quickly. Arevan, Shanar realized, had a natural talent for fighting if properly taught and looked forward to the lessons. He also seemed to grow with every passing day.

Lady Taira, however, hadn't been agreeable to parting with her favorite musician. Shanar was still to play at bigger occasions, but luckily, Asnam had found yet another mehan'murad slave at the auction to console her - a man able to juggle with burning torches. This had been by far the biggest achievement.

All in all, Shanar realized that confiding in Asnam had been the right thing to do. Arevan was much safer now and able to defend himself at least in an open fight a bit better with every day. Their unknown enemy's next strike, however, would surely come out of the dark again.

Yet nothing happened as Rain-time passed and Sowing-time started with glorious flowers and gentle sunshine; perhaps the assassin had truly been discouraged by the fact that Arevan was now better protected than ever. As time passed, Shanar felt the edge of worry fade away like a knife getting blunt. Instead, he was concentrating on Arevan's lessons. His doubts about the pendant's power had slowly quietened down as well since he had no need to use it. Although he was always wearing the pendant, its power was dormant as long as a song wasn't accompanied by strong feelings, as Nuriven had told him. Shanar, looking back on all the occasions the pendant had been showing its power, had realized that it had always been a very emotional situation, full of sadness, pity, or anger. His desire to help Arevan had activated the pendant. As long as his own feelings were serene, the little piece of metal was quiet and cold like any other jewelery. Sometimes, Shanar even wondered if that strange conversation with Priestess Nuriven had ever truly happened.

 

~>*<~

 

The routine was again interrupted as one day, Arevan asked about the city. So far, he had never shown any interest in the people who would, one day, be his subjects, except in Shanar's family by listening to Shanar reading Alia's letters to him.

"I want to go out there," the boy said, looking out of the window while listening to Alia's latest letter. "Father always said that it's important to see how the simple people live, but I didn't understand it. I never had the wish to leave the palace."

"You have to ask your grandfather," Shanar replied. "And you can't go alone, of course. But may I ask why you changed your mind, your Highness?"

"I don't know. I want to honor his wish. And the letters from your sister made me curious about their lives." Arevan turned toward Shanar. "I know how much you miss them. If we go out there, we'll visit them. I want to meet your family. Maybe they are different from the people here. You know that I don't like them."

Shanar smiled broadly at this unexpected prospect. "Thank you, your Highness. I'd be honored to introduce you to my sisters and brothers. But it's very humble living out there. The house we lived in wasn't even as big as this room. You might be appalled."

Arevan shook his head. "I promise not to be."

 

 

Arevan didn't change his mind, and the Sovereign, against all expectations, actually thought it a good idea, so Asnam and Shanar discussed the details of the tour. Shanar would accompany Arevan directly while a group of soldiers was to be positioned in the vicinity. Since it would cause too much of an uproar if the people learned of Arevan's visit, they decided on a disguise. Simple clothes and cloaks would do the trick, especially hiding the Arevan's flaming hair, the Menar family's trademark. 

Although Asnam and Shanar didn't speak of it, they both knew that this was a perfect opportunity for the assassin to strike again. The soldiers protecting Arevan were the only ones to be taken into confidence, but there was no guarantee that they wouldn't talk. Aside from them, only the Sovereign and Yahezid knew, but since they had no reason to mistrust their family, all of them knew of the undertaking as well. This thought worried Shanar although he couldn't think of any other ways to protect Arevan. They would go on a clearly marked route, stop only briefly and then go directly to Alia's and Sehan's ho use. Both Shanar's sister and her husband were under oath not to tell anybody of their august visitor, and for Jeana and the twins Arevan wouldn't be more than Shanar's rich employer's grandson. Alia had told them that their big brother had found a good place of work in a noble house, but was kept too busy to visit. 

Early in the morning, Shanar and Arevan went out. Both were carrying swords which was not unusual for Al'Menaran nobles, but their unremarkable clothes didn't attract any attention. Arevan hesitantly followed Shanar down the broad stairs of the palace and past the guards. "The only times I ever left was when we visited the temples," he s aid quietly. "And never on foot. We went by litter, and the curtains were closed."

"I know. But there's nothing to fear, your Highness. The streets we are about to enter aren't full of bandits." Shanar held out his hand, smiling, and Arevan took it. 

"I know that," Arevan grumbled. "But it's still weird."

It was strange for Shanar as well to walk the streets again with a kind of freedom he hadn't known for a long time. He could almost forget his status as a slave, imagining he was walking with one of his siblings. But Arevan's strong, warm hand, already calloused from swords training, didn't have anything in common with the tiny ones of his sisters. 

The soldiers were nowhere to be seen, but Shanar knew they were following them. The streets were still rather empty with only a few people hurrying toward the market. Reaching the south gate took some time which allowed Arevan to take a closer look at the streets. As the morning passed, they met playing children, busy women and equally busy men, beggars, bards sitting at fountains, merchants off ering their wares. It gradually became louder and dirtier as they approached their destination. Arevan looked at all of it with large eyes, wrinkling his nose at some stenches. He barely seemed to believe how normal people lived.

Alia and Sehan awaited them already. They had closed their fruits stall for the day to greet their guests. Shanar was happy to see how nice a house they had found, but the most beautiful sight was Alia herself. She practically glowed, the signs of pregnancy showing beneath her long shirt. Her husband Sehan, a tall, gangly young man with perpetually tousled hair, smiled a bit sheepishly as they clasped hands.

"Welcome! Please come in."

As soon as they were inside, Alia and Sehan bowed deeply. "Your Highness, it's an honor to meet you. Our humble home is at your service."

Humble home indeed - Shanar knew they were doing very well for themselves, but for Arevan, the sight of unadorned, simple, white-washed walls and thin leather in front of the windows instead of glass must be staggering. A kettle was hanging over the stove, boiling with sweet-smelling tea. Shanar bet his ten-rainy-season-contract that Arevan had never seen a stove in his life. 

Moments later, Jeana and the boys barged in, throwing themselves at Shanar. All three of them had grown considerably since Shanar had last seen them, looking well-fed and healthy. "We missed you so much!" Jeana whispered. 

"I missed you, too," Shanar replied, his voice raw with emotion. "But where are our manners? Let me make introductions."

The siblings reluctantly let go of Shanar and bowed. Jeana smiled at Arevan with her usual brightness. "Hello", she greeted him. "Nice to meet you!"

"Jeana, Akil, Siran, meet Master Arevan, my employer's grandson. Sir, these are my younger siblings."

"Good day to you," Arevan replied, not sure how to react to Jeana's disarming manner and the fact that he had probably never spoken with a girl about his age aside from his sister.

"Master Arevan has never been out of the noble quarters," Shanar explained. 

"Do you live in a big house?" Akil asked curiously. "And do you have many toys?" Siran chimed in.

"Yes," Arevan replied. "It's...a very big house. I have a set of large rooms to myself. And I have lots of toys, although I'm too old for them now."

The twins made big eyes at him, not sure if they should believe him. Arevan glanced up at Shanar. "Maybe we can come back here again, and then I'll... I'll bring some of my old toys for you?"

From that moment on, Arevan was the children's hero. Jeana pulled him away to play in the corner of the room while Shanar finally took his time to hug Alia, shake hands with Sehan and inquire after their lives. Letters could only tell so much, so he was anxious to hear as much as possible in the short time they stayed here. A quick glance here and there in Arevan's direction assured him that he was getting along splendidly with Jeana and the boys. It was a wonderful sight: Arevan, playing with other children just like a normal boy, without the burden of one day being the sovereign of this city and to all of them.

 

Finally, Alia asked for a song, of course, and Shanar complied gladly, choosing a funny song his siblings and Arevan both liked.

 

Fight, my brothers, raise your swords

The enemies are calling

Fight, my brothers, mark my words

We will see them falling

Down down down -

The enemies will die!

We will be victorious!

They will fear our cry:

Brothers in arms!

 

Drink, my brothers, raise your cups

The wines and beers are calling

Drink, my brothers, mark my words

You will see us falling

Down down down

The cups are empty now!

We will be mad and drunk!

They will hear our cry:

brothers, drink up!

 

 

Time passed too quickly, however, and Shanar had to keep up their tight schedule to get them back to the palace well before it went dark. Alia cried softly when she hugged him goodbye, and the children clung to him, sobbing and making him promise to visit soon again, which he couldn't. 

Arevan got a kiss on the cheek from Jeana and looked a bit embarrassed.

"So, how did you like our visit?" Shanar asked Arevan as they strolled through the city again.

"Simple people do live truly simple," Arevan replied. "Their house was tiny! But they seem to be content with it."

"I t's because they are used to it. They never knew another life. Did you like playing with the children?"

"Yes. The twins are funny. And Jeana... She's not at all like my sister or anyone I ever met. She kissed me just like this! Do city girls do that?"

Shanar raised an eyebrow, grinning. "Yes, they do, if they are as fearless as my sister. Maybe..."

Shanar stopped as he spotted movement on a rooftop right in front of them. The street was suddenly deserted with no one in sight.

"What is it?"Arevan whispered, noticing that Shanar was alarmed by something.

The next second, metal glinted in the sunslight as something whirred through the air. 

"Look out!" Shanar shouted, pushing Arevan out of the way. A sharp pain shot through his shoulder, making him stagger. 

"Shanar, you've been hit! Someone's shooting arrows at us!" Arevan drew his sword. "I'll show that bastard..."

"Get down!" Shanar hissed. "Don't give them a target!" Holding his injured shoulder, he hid in a house entrance, pulling Arevan close to him.

Moments later, the shouts of soldiers could be heard. The figure on the roof vanished.

Shanar and Arevan stayed where they were until two soldiers appeared from a side streets, bowing deeply and escorting them back to the palace. Experts on combat wounds, they quickly assured that the arrow sticking in Shanar's left arm hadn't hit any vital point and would be extracted easily. It hurt terribly nevertheless, and the rest of the way back to the palace was a dizzy blur. 

 

~>*<~

 

The next thing Shanar saw was Priestess Nuriven looking down at him.

"You'll be alright," she said. "No playing the lute or weapons training for a few weeks, but there won't be any lasting damage to your arm. I've given you something for the pain. Luckily, there wasn't any poison on the arrow."

"You sound like you expected to find something like that," Shanar murmured and looked around. He was in his own room. "Did they catch the shooter?"

"That's for Master Asnam to tell you. I'll take my leave now," she said. "Prince Arevan has been very worried. I'll send him in."

The next moment, Arevan stormed into the room, his little face a white mask of worry. "The priestess said you are going to be alright! Are you hurting very badly?"

"No, not really," Shanar assured him, smiling up at him. "I'm just glad you didn't get hurt, your Highness."

"Only because you pushed me out of the way," Arevan answered solemnly. "You saved my life."

"Well, that is my duty, your Highness. And now don't worry any longer. We got away, and that is all that matters."

"But why was that person shooting at us?" Arevan demanded. "Why would anyone want to kill me?"

"I think it was a bandit, ready to rob us. Maybe the streets aren't so safe after all." Shanar smiled weakly. "W e'd better not get out again anytime soon."

The boy was contented with that answer for the time being, and Shanar was grateful for it. The pain medicine was dulling his senses, so he couldn't concentrate properly. But there was no doubt in his mind that the as yet unknown attacker had struck once more, and had, again, nearly succeeded . 

 

"They caught the archer," Asnam told Shanar later that evening when he came by. "But he stabbed himself with a dagger before they could question him. He shouted  'Freedom to the people'  before he died. The Sovereign sent Commander Yahezid to investigate personally. They think it's a group of revolutionary malcontents who want to overthrow the Sovereign's rule. There have been rumors for a long time about such a group conspiring against the Sovereign, but there was never such an open attack against a member of the ruling family. As you can imagine, the Sovereign is not pleased at all and furious with Yahezid because of his lax security measures. And he will not allow Arevan to go out again."

"What do you think about this?" Shanar asked.

"I don't know. It's possible that those rebels are behind the attacks. But someone from inside the palace talked too much, that is clear. You were closely pursued without the soldiers guarding you knowing it. Once again, our unknown enemy has used a very good proxy." Asnam hesitated. "You risked your life to save the prince. I'm glad to see my trust in you was justified." 

"Thank you. I only hope I don't have to do it again," Shanar sighed and closed his eyes.

 

~>*<~

 

A week later, Commander Yahezid and Ghajadin were sent away on a mission by the Sovereign. It was high time to find a suitable future husband for Liyel and also a fiancee for Arevan from the other big cities to ensure good relations, and since rain-time was over, it was the best time of the season to start a long journey. Shanar, playing at the big banquet Lady Taira hosted to give her son a proper sendoff, didn't believe it the only reason. Yahezid had clearly fallen out of grace and was sent away as punishment; the Sovereign's dark look and the barely concealed anger in Yahezid's face spoke volumes. 

Young Lieutenant Kavarim Di'Uzra was to be acting Commander in his absence, the nobles whispered, a choice that Shanar approved of with all his heart. He was also sure that with Yahezid out of the way, Arevan would be safe for the time being. The evil snake was fangless for the moment. Shanar just hoped that the long and exhausting travels to the other cities and the endless receptions and meetings with the noble families there would keep Yahezid busy for at least one or even two rainy-seasons. Arevan would be much older and better trained at weapons then. 

They would be prepared.

 

 

 

 


	10. Chapter 8 - Burning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay!

 

 

~ present day ~

 

It was already night when Shanar returned from another exhausting evening. Lately, Lady Taira had ordered him more frequently to play again at nightly occasions since Arevan didn't need so much tutoring anymore. He didn't return to his quarters, however, but instead lingered in the beautiful courtyard right outside the Arevan's quarters to think about the conversation with Asnam and Sharistani earlier. As he sat down next to the fountain and looked up into the starry sky, he had no idea what do do. The rainy-seasons had passed in such a peaceful blur, letting Shanar forget sometimes how things truly were. Slowly, one by one, he recounted the pillars of his reality like a mantra.

One, he was still a lowly mehan'murad slave, with four more rainy-seasons to his contract, no matter how many liberties he had been granted.

Two, they had never caught the person behind the attacks on Arevan, although nothing further had happened.

Three, Commander Yahezid and Ghajadin had not yet returned to Al'Menara even after five rainy-seasons of absence. Their diplomatic mission had been difficult, and they hadn't found any suitable partners for Liyel and Arevan, traveling from one city to another. After finally acquiring a promising future husband for Princess Liyel, there there had been some horrible sandstorms on their way back, and no letter or messenger had arrived for some time now. Everyone was worried that they'd never return alive.

Four, the Sovereign was not doing well. As soon as Arevan turned fifteen rainy-seasons during coming Harvest-Time, he was about to ascend to the throne. Was he ready? Shanar couldn't tell.

And five, Shanar wanted to stand by him in any way he could. But he had absolutely no idea what the right thing to do was in this situation.

Softly, he closed his eyes and started to softly hum  to himself, trying to find ease in the sound of his own music. It enveloped him like a warm mantle.

A sudden noise made Shanar open his eyes. Arevan, in a nightshirt and loose trousers, stood a few feet away, staring at him. 

"I'm sorry, did I wake you, your Highness?" Shanar asked softly and stood up. "I was about to..."

He didn't get any further. With two swift steps, Arevan was beside him, grabbing him and pulling him close. Shanar smelt the familiar scent of soft hair as it brushed his cheek when Arevan leaned his forehead against Shanar's shoulder, taking deep, shuddering breaths. 

"Your... Highness..." Shanar finally managed a whisper. "Are you alright?"

"I heard you call to me," Arevan replied as softly. "I can't explain it, but I... and you... Shanar, what's happening?"

Slowly, Shanar raised his arms to return the almost crushing embrace. He hadn't noticed it before, but his pendant had become hot again, warming his skin yet not hurting it. He couldn't hold his tears back now. Sweet Shariha, what had he done?

"I'm so sorry, your Highness!" he blurted out. "Please know that I would never do anything that could harm you! I wasn't... I haven't..."

"I know that," Arevan whispered, finally looking up. His eyes, bright and fierce, were almost on the same level as Shanar's. "I just can't help it." And with a clumsy yet determined move, he kissed Shanar on the lips.

For a moment, Shanar was too stunned to react. He wanted to push Arevan away, wanted to tell him that he was just confused. But he couldn't. The influence of t he pendant and the gods knew what else held power over Arevan was his responsibility now. He couldn't leave the confused young man alone with it. 

Shanar closed his eyes and opened his mouth, allowing the kiss to deepen. Arevan, encountering no resistance, enthusiastically took advantage of it, exploring the wonders of a first kiss.

After what seemed to be half an eternity, he pulled away, gasping and flushed. There were no words, just Arevan's hot forehead leaning against Shanar's shoulder once more. Shanar continued to embrace him, hold him, having no idea if he was about to make the worst mistake of his life.

Finally, Arevan lifted his head, taking deep breaths. 

"Let's go inside," Shanar suggested softly, and Arevan nodded. Slowly, he let go of Shanar, face still red. They hurried inside where some lamps were still burning, bathing the rooms in soft light. Arevan looked at him again, a strange hunger in his eyes, and Shanar suddenly realized that he was still wearing one of his revealing entertainment outfits, consisting of various translucent layers of white cloth, embroidered with gold. He had never been shy, but under Arevan's gaze, he suddenly felt naked and vulnerable. 

Nevertheless, he had to be the one with a cool head. He was responsible. And he was already a slave, his body and abilities belonging to the Sovereign's household, to Arevan. His own wishes meant little. Maybe this would be a far smaller step than he had thought. Maybe this would be just like washing Arevan's hair, just another little task of a body servant.

Finally, Shanar asked, voice surprisingly steady, "Do you want to continue, your Highness?"

Arevan blushed even darker. "I... I don't know. Can I... again...?"

Shanar nodded, and Arevan embraced him for another kiss. As his warm, strong hands slowly found their way under Shanar's outer layer of clothing, Shanar had come to a decision.

 

~>*<~

 

 

The next morning found Shanar far too early as a beam of bright light fell through the hastily drawn curtains. He was unable to move, however, because Arevan was lying on top of him. After the night's activities, the boy - no, the young man - had fallen asleep and hadn't moved since. Shanar had been staying awake, unable to find any rest until it was almost dawn. He knew that something precious and innocent, like a fragile eggshell, had been shattered forever, hatching something unknown and strange in its process. There would be no going back.

Arevan sighed and shifted, nuzzling Shanar's collarbone, before he opened his eyes.

"Good morning, your Highness," Shanar greeted him, trying for normalcy. "If you let me get up, I'll fetch you breakfast."

"Um, of course." Cheeks flaming, Arevan let got of Shanar and stood up. "I'll go bathe myself!" Quickly, he hurried out. If it hadn't been such a strange situation, Shanar might have been amused by his embarrassment. But in a completely different way, he felt the same. 

 

It was awkward to say the least, trying to get about the daily duties as if nothing had happened. Arevan quickly broke his fast and then hurried out for his lessons. For two rainy-sea sons now, Arevan had been studying with various members of the court and his grandfather to learn more about politics, so apart from lessons in History, Shanar was mainly occupied with being a companion, body servant, and sparring partner. Wh en Arevan had left, he was finally on his own to try and sort things through with his mind. Asnam would certainly be pleased with him, that much was clear.

So why was he feeling so bad? His own concerns should mean nothing in this matter. It had been, as Asnam had pointed out, the logical step. And as inexperienced and overexcited as Arevan had been, there hadn't been much more than some kissing and touching. Under normal circumstances, Shanar might have even been able to enjoy it, but this weren't any normal circumstances. No, he didn't want to think about it anymore. 

With a determined face, Shanar set out to clean Arevan's rooms to occupy himself.

 

By noon, Sharistani came by, telling Shanar that they were to play tonight for a big occasion. "We haven't played all together in some time, so we have to practice right away", she told him. "No errors tonight!"

"Any special occasion?" Shanar asked her.

She frowned. "Haven't you heard yet? Commander Yahezid and Lord Ghajadin have returned this morning from their long journey. There's a big banquet to celebrate his return. I guess that the Sovereign long regretted sending them into exile."

"The Commander is back?" Shanar felt the cold hand of fear grip at his heart. If Yahezid had truly been the one after Arevan's life, the attacks would surely start again. And time was running out as well: Yahezid could not kill a freshly instituted young Sovereign and then ascend to the throne - even the most trusting person would get suspicious. No, he had to get rid of Arevan before this happened. A grief-stricken Sovereign would surely designate Yahezid as the next heir and die of natural causes soon after. The old man was getting weaker every day, that much was clear. Arevan had told him recently that he thought his grandfather was just clinging to life until Arevan was of age. 

"Shanar? Are you listening? Get your lute, we'll meet Julanar at the servant's dining hall." Sharistani's voice pulled him out of his thoughts. 

"I'm sorry, of course." He went to fetch his instrument, Sharistani's worried gaze in his back.

"Are you alright?" she asked. "You don't look so good."

"It's nothing", he replied. He and Asnam had decided not to tell anyone about the attacks for fear of tipping the assassin off or endangering others. Sharistani, smart as she was, might have figured it out but she had never said a word.

Arm in arm, they went down the numerous halls of the palace. 

"So...", Sharistani began, regarding at him from the side with a knowing look. "I'm beginning to guess what's going on here. You and the Prince, right? Last night?"

Shanar felt heat rise in his cheeks. "Yes."

"So tell me, how was it?"

"Sharistani, please. I don't want to talk about it."

She grabbed his arm and stopped him. "I know what Asnam said to you. But did you do it only because of your sense of duty? You had a choice here. No one forced you. Asnam could have found someone else for the Prince."

"I know. It was my free choice, believe me," Shanar assured her. "And in a way, I'm glad that it wasn't a stranger, but someone he could trust. But... It's stupid, I should stop thinking about it. It's done."

Sharistani didn't let go of him, her silvery eyes big and full of compassion and understanding. 

"I'm sorry," she finally said. "If anyone can understand, it's me. Back then, when I was on my own on the streets and knew that there was a quicker way to get money besides just dancing... I asked one of my trusted friends to be my first so that no greedy stranger could take that ever away from me. That memory of gentle, familiar hands on my body got me through much worse later on."

Shanar took a deep breath, putting his hand over hers on his arm. "I'm sorry, I didn't want to remind you of bad times. And it's not like that, really. Please don't worry about me."

"I'm your friend, so I do worry", Sharistani persisted. "And it's a big deal for your, or you wouldn't think about it so much."

"Sharistani, there is no going back now. What am I supposed to do? Pretend it never happened? What do I do tonight?"

"I don't know. But please tell me - was it bad?"

"No." Shanar shook his head. "Believe me, it wasn't. It just didn't... feel right." He sighed. "As I said, it's no use to talk about it anymore." He eyed her critically. "But there's something bothering you as well. We didn't see much of each other lately, but you look a bit pale. Is everything alright?"

She signed. "You know me too well. It's... Well, it's Asnam and me. I thought that he would finally show some feeling toward me after we become lovers two rainy-seasons ago. You know how hard it was to seduce him because he thought I was just trying to repay his kindness. But there's always something inside him holding him back. I'm starting to doubt that he will ever get over his wife."

Shanar hugged her. "He will. One day, he will look at you and finally realize that his happiness was right in front of him all along. Men are stupid sometimes."

That made her giggle. "I guess so. Thank you, Shanar. Now come on, let's rehearse."

 

Shanar saw Arevan not again before dinner. He, Sharistani, and Julanar, wearing red tunics embroidered with silver this time, took their customary seat in the corner of the hall. Shanar watched closely as the ruling family took their seats.The Sovereign looked frail, his skin papery, although his posture was as straight as ever. Lady Taira next to him hadn't changed a bit - she would be no help to Arevan once he took the throne, that much was clear.

As everyone was present, the main doors opposite opened, and Commander Yahezid walked in, followed by Ghajadin. The nobles stood up and applauded as they strode by. Shanar noticed that Yahezid looked harsher and more fearsome than ever, even without his armor. Ghajadin, however, seemed completely untouched by the seasons of travel and hardship. His silvery-blonde locks shone in the lamplight, making him glow like a god-like apparition.

The Sovereign rose to greet them. "My nephew and his consort did not just travel to the other cities to tighten political bonds," he said. "They also broadened our horizons. Our ways have been good and proved, but there are always new things to be learned. My grandson with profit greatly from their experience. Welcome home! We are glad that you returned safely after all this time!"

The guests applauded once more as Yahezid and Ghajadin bowed and took their places at the table. Shanar noticed how Yahezid's face darkened to a scowl momentarily as he looked at his cousin. Surely he hadn't expected to find a young man in the place of a child he had last seen. 

As he concentrated on his playing, Shanar vowed to keep a weapon on his person at all times from now on. 

 

"That last melody you played tonight... I've never heard it before," Arevan remarked later that evening when they had returned to his rooms and an awkward silence had reigned for a few minutes. "Are there any lyrics to it?"

"Yes, there are. But it's a rather sad ballad and not fit for a festive occasion," Shanar replied, his thoughts still on Yahezid's return and the possible consequences. "We arranged the tune a bit to let it sound more cheerful. Lady Taira had requested something completely new from us for the event, so we had to improvise."

Arevan grabbed him by the arm and pulled him down on a set of cushions. "Sing it to me," he ordered.

"I don't know, your Highness, As I said, it's not a happy song."

"Do it!" Arevan demanded. "I'm not a child anymore. I think I can handle one silly song."

That was indeed true. Shanar took a deep breath and began.

 

Long ago, a man

Set out to catch a bird

The firebird of Adir

Burning in its flight

 

The man searched day and night

To find the firebird

As he heard its singing,

Burning in his heart

 

Crossing the desert

the man was close to death

Wishing in his last hour

The firebird would come

 

And the bird of Adir

Glorious and red

Came shooting from the skies

To meet the man at last

 

He smiled and stroked its feathers

Burning both his hands

Never had he seen

A thing so beautiful

 

The Firebird of Adir

Sang its greatest song

The man out in the desert

Died in happiness

 

 

Arevan had watched him with rapt attention the whole time and for a moment, Shanar feared that he had inadvertently used the pendant again. But his skin was heating on its own under that burning gaze, once again strangely vulnerable and naked. Arevan had come closer and now pulled at the strings holding together Shanar's tunic at the shoulder. All signs of this morning's embarrassment had gone, leaving only determination. 

"Your Highness...," Shanar began, but was cut close by a searing kiss. Slowly, Arevan steered him toward the bed.

 

~>*<~

 

Silvery light shone through half-drawn curtains as three of the moons crawled over the sky in their full glory. Once again, it hadn't taken long for Arevan to reach completion and fall sleep. Shanar had carefully untangled himself form the possessive embrace and caught himself kissing the tousled red mane on the cushion as he had done a thousand times before. He felt more worried than ever, but right now, he had to keep focused. Arevan's life might be in terrible danger again. Maybe it was time to confide in Arevan and tell him about the assassination attempts? Shanar sighed and went up to quickly wash himself and get some fresh air in the little courtyard right below Arevan's window. From now on, it wouldn't be such a bad thing if Arevan insisted on sleeping together in the same bed. Shanar would surely be able to protect him better that way.

 

After a few moments of fresh night among the fragrant flowers,Shanar caught himself dawdling on his way back to Arevan's rooms. Deep in his thoughts, Shanar made a turn to enter the next hallway and suddenly collided with an other person. 

"I'm so sorry!" Shanar bowed deeply in reflex, fearing that he had run into a soldier. During the last rainy-seasons, he had managed to stay clear of them, but maybe his luck had run out at last. And right now, in the middle  of the night, there would be no one near to help him.

"Don't worry. I didn't look where I was going," a pleasant, familiar voice replied. 

Shanar looked up in surprise to see Ghajadin. "My Lord, I'm very sorry. Please allow me to welcome back to the palace."

"Thank you. Shanar, was it?" Ghajadin smiled and straightened the folds of his robe. "I remember you. My mother-in-law's favorite musician and Arevan's servant. I guess he's gotten a bit too old to be sung to sleep now, right? I was surprised to see that he has become a man already. - Now, what are you wandering about during this late hour?"

"I just needed some fresh air", Shanar admitted. 

Ghajadin laughed. "So did I. The welcoming party took rather long. Let's see, why don't you come with me and entertain me? I don't think I ever heard you sing. Since Taira doesn't like it, I guess it's no surprise. But I think I  could use a nice song or two to get me sleepy."

Shanar could only answer, "As you wish, my Lord."

He followed Ghajadin a bit nervously. What was the man up to? "Forgive me for speaking up again, my Lord, but Commander Yahezid cannot stand the sight of me. If you..."

"Forget Yahezid," Ghajadin waved him off. "He's still off somewhere drinking with his men to celebrate his return. I know that he doesn't like your... kind, but I don't care. He can be very stupid sometimes."

Shanar's brows shot up into his hairline, but he stayed quiet.

Ghajadin led them into a set of vast, lavish rooms Shanar had never entered before. Two servants were still up at this late hour, bringing fruits and a drink for Ghajadin, before they left them alone. For some reason, Shanar felt suddenly trapped.

"Sit down." Ghajadin gestured toward some cushions after he had sat down as well. Shanar obeyed, looking up at him. "What would you like me to sing for you?"

"Whatever you like. What song does Arevan like the most?" Ghajadin sipped at his wine.

"He likes most ballads which tell a story," Shanar replied, trying to voice a fact he had never thought about. "I don't think he has a favorite."

"Ballads... I like them as well - except for that wretched ballad that tells the fall of Shir'Murad. I guess it's not your favorite, either?"

"No, Sir, it isn't," Shanar confessed. "Though I had to play it a lot back when I lived in the city."

Ghajadin nodded. "Do you miss your old life?"

"I'm very grateful to serve at the palace."

"You're a real diplomat." Ghajadin laughed. "I know what you want to say. Either way, people like you are not treated well enough. My mother-in-law made you fashionable as servants, but I think it's degrading."

Shanar blinked. This was the first time anyone had ever said this to him. 

Ghajadin regarded him carefully. "You're wondering why I'm so concerned? Let me tell you a little secret - relatives of mine lived in Shir'Murad back when it was a glorious city. They had to return in shame back here, like your kind. It might have been a bit easier for them because they didn't look different, but they were called mehan'murad as well - behind their backs and to their faces."

"I'm sorry, sir. I didn't know that," Shanar confessed.

"I put a lot of thought into this during the last seasons of travel," Ghajadin said, taking another sip of his drink. "Being away from home gives you a new perspective. And I think it's time to reclaim the lost city. With a big enou gh army, we'd be able to defeat the sessera once and for all and rebuild Shir'Murad."

Shanar could barely believe what he heard. His whole life had been overshadowed by the loss of the city beyond the wall which was an unshakable fact never to be changed. But if the lost city could really be rebuild, all of his kind could return to the free, proud life his mother and grandfather had told him about. The stain of his ancestry would be erased forever. He could walk the streets as an honored member of society.

"I can see that you're not indifferent to that idea. Why don't you think about it? You see, the Sovereign is an old man who doesn't want to take any risks. But young Arevan could carve his name into the stone of history forever if he went out to take Shir'Murad back from the sessera." Ghajadin got up from his seat. "I think I'm not in the mood for music after all. You can go, Shanar."

"Good night, sir," Shanar murmured, getting up as well. 

Almost mechanically, he left the lavish rooms and found himself in the darkness of the palace's corridors. So many thoughts whirled in his head as he slowly returned to Arevan's quarters. Could Ghajadin's idea really become a reality? Where would they get the necessary warriors? Would the other cities offer their help? And how much money would be needed to rebuild a whole city? Wouldn't some people be afraid that history was about to repeat its elf? And was the Sovereign really too afraid to take this step or justly cautious?

The longer he thought about it, the more the shining future he had imagined started to crumble. The sparks of wild hope slowly died down, and when he had reached the prince's doorstep, Shanar felt wet streaks of despair roll down his cheeks. 

No, this was a crazy dream. If he told Arevan about it, hewould jump at the change to go to battle with the sessera. His wish to avenge his father had never died. But the people of Al'Menara hadn't seen head or tail of the sessera during these last rainy-seasons. If they went out with an army, the open war would surely start anew. And  Arevan, Shanar's beloved prince, leading his men into battle, could die with a black spear through his heart like his father.

No, this wasn't worth it. Shanar's own pride wasn't worth another's life.

"Damn it, where have you been?" As soon as Shanar had opened the door, Arevan pulled him inside impatiently. "I woke up and you were gone!"

"I'm sorry, your Highness," Shanar murmured, quickly rubbing his eyes. "I went out for some fresh air, and Lord Ghajadin wanted to talk to me. He was very gracious, and I couldn't refuse, of course."

Arevan frowned. "Ghajadin? What did he want from you? You're my personal servant and you have the right to r efuse any improper demands!"

If the situation hadn't been so serious, Shanar might have laughed at the absurd jealousy. "Don't worry. I serve you and no one else. It's just... Your Highness, you know that I've never asked for anything, but this time, I have to. May I speak?"

"What do you want?" Arevan demanded, pulling him closer.

Shanar put his arms around him, looking him into the eye. "I know that it might sound strange... But will you promise to refuse anything Lord Ghajadin might ever ask of you?"

Arevan's face darkened. "Don't tell me he's after my favors now! He's bound to my uncle!"

It was no use with Arevan's mind completely occupied with carnal desires at the moment. "Will you promise me?" Shanar repeated. 

"Yes, I promise. And now don't you worry - I don' like that guy one bit and would never listen to anything he says. And I don't think he's that pretty. Yahezid can keep him for all I care." With awkward gentleness, he stroked through Shanar's dark strands of hair before pulling him into a kiss. 

 

 

 


	11. Chapter 9 - The new Sovereign

 

 

Shanar kept a brave face during the next days, but his heart was still heavy with worry about the current situation. He had no idea where his relationship with Arevan was heading with this new intimacy between them, but his bigger concern was with Yahezid.

Asnam, as it turned out, was as worried as Shanar about it. They had decided to keep very close eyes on Arevan, but so far, Yahezid hadn't made any suspicious moves. They suspected that he was about to send another assassin, but there were only so much ways to secure the palace. The fact that nothing at all happened made them even more uneasy, like the ominous silence before a storm. Often enough, Shanar lay awake at night, one hand under the pillow, firmly gripping the hilt of a dagger, while the other arm embraced Arevan.

 

Four weeks before the official coronation was to take place on Arevan's birthday, Shanar couldn't stand it anymore. All this time, he had kept his worries from Arevan, not wanting to upset him, but now he felt that the time had come to tell him the truth. As prince and heir, he had to be prepared for whatever danger was to come. 

They sat together one night when Shanar took a deep breath. "You Highness, since you're about to become the new Sovereign soon, there are some things I have to tell you."

Arevan frowned. "What is it? You've been awfully tense lately. What's bothering you?"

Shanar took a deep breath. There was no way to breach this subject delicately, so he went right into the middle of things. "Do you remember when you got sick as a little boy? We thought that it was draught-fever at first, but it turned out that you were poisoned. And that archer on the rooftop shooting at us when we went out to visit my family? That was no ordinary bandit. Someone wanted to kill you, your Highness."

"Kill me? What are you talking about?" Arevan demanded. "You're not making any sense."

As Shanar started to recount the events in detail, Arevan's frown deepened, but he didn't say anything. As Shanar told him about his suspicion about Yahezid, however, he jumped up from his cushion in anger.

"How dare you accuse my uncle like that?" he barked. "Is there any proof?"

"I'm afraid not. But he's the only one profiting from your death, your Highness. He's the next heir."

"But he's family! I can't believe that he would to anything to hurt me!"

Shanar looked up at him. "Do you remember the weapons training with him? You were black and blue every time."

"That was training," Arevan replied. Nervously, he paced back and forth. "Shanar, I have to accept the fact that someone wanted to kill me back then. But I refuse to believe that it was anyone close to me! Didn't you say the dying archer said something about an underground rebel movement?"

"Yes, he did. But we never saw head or tail of this alleged rebels before or after," Shanar argued. "And how do you explain the fact that the attacks stopped as soon as Commander Yahezid left the city?"

"That could be a coincidence! And you said yourself that after that second attack, you and Asnam were much more careful with protecting me. All those rainy-seasons when I wasn't allowed to go back to the city... I hated it. But now I can understand why. You were worried about me." Arevan stopped pacing. "What about my grandfather? Does he know anything about it?"

"We didn't tell him."

"Damn you two!" Arevan shouted. "What gives you the right to keep it a secret? From me, I can understand, because I was a child back then. But my grandfather? He ought to know!"

"Do you really think that he would have believed Master Asnam and me? The poisonous root could have been an accident, and the archer a normal bandit. Master Asnam thought it best to keep it a secret. He and I were worried about endangering you even more."

Arevan took a few deep breaths to calm himself. "Alright", he finally said. "Since my grandfather's health is fragile, it wouldn't be a good idea to tell him anything about this now. And the danger might even be over for a long time."

"It's not over," Shanar persisted. He got up as well, stepped over to Arevan and took his hands. "You have to be very careful, even around your family. By Shariha, I truly wish that your uncle has nothing to do with all of this. But all I ask of you is to be wary of him."

"I will. And I might be wary of other people I thought I could trust!" Arevan pulled his hands away. "I thought you were loyal to this family, Shanar."

"I am loyal, your Highness", Shanar whispered, the harsh words stinging like poisoned needles. "But that man is dangerous!"

"Get out, Shanar." Arevan turned away. "I want to be alone."

Quietly, Shanar left the room without looking back. Seeing Arevan this angry hurt him far more than he would have imagined. And he was right, of course. What if Shanar's hatred toward Yahezid was the reason for all of this? Would he have suspected him as the culprit if he didn't have any personal conflict with him? 

Alone in his own room, Shanar balled his fists. Yes, he would have always suspected the next heir in line. And even if Arevan was angry at him now, it was Shanar's duty to protect him - even from his own blind faith in his family.

 

~>*<~

 

That night, Shanar was alone in his room, but couldn't find any proper sleep. He had no idea what to do now except hoping that Arevan would calm down and see some reason. But the Arevan's temper was a force to be reckoned with, so it might take some time - time they probably didn't have.

In the wee hours before dawn, Shanar heard a noise. He had finally dozed off, but was immediately awake when he realized what kind of sound it was - alarm bells. In a second, he was out of bed, had pulled over a shirt and pants and grabbed his sword. He was in Arevan's rooms in an instant, calling out to his young master. "Your Highness!"

"Shanar, what's going on?" A tousled red head emerged from underneath a layer of silken pillows. "Can't you leave me in peace?"

"The alarm, your Highness! Something is happening. We have to find out what's going on. Maybe we're under attack." Shanar tossed Arevan some clothes and took his sword from its customary place on the wall.

"Who in Adir's name would attack the palace?" Arevan grumbled while he dressed himself. "We're not at war, and if there was an unusual attack of the sessera on the wall, we would have heard of it already. I think some stupid guard got drunk and thought it would be funny to ring the alarm bell, like a few rainy-seasons back during the Stargazing Festival."

Shanar hoped this as well, but he had to make sure. As soon as Arevan was ready, they opened the door to the corridor. Instantly, both knew that there was no false alarm as a thick cloud of smoke welled into the room, making them cough violently. Shanar closed the doors again and bolted them shut. "Fire! Your Highness, we can't go that way. We have to get into the courtyard via the balcony."

"We're on the second floor, Shanar," Arevan protested. "We can't just jump down!"

Shanar stormed past him and opened the wooden doors to the balcony. The tower opposite the courtyard the balcony was looking out to was already completely on fire, coloring the night sky in an ominous red. The fire must have broken out very close by, so there was no time to lose. Shanar grabbed the silken sheets and draperies of Arevan's bed and started to tie them together in a makeshift rope. The material was thin, but sturdy, so he hoped that it would support them for a few moments until they had reached ground level. When he was finished, he tied the end around one of the thin columns supporting the balcony's roofing. The lengths of about a man's height was missing at the end, but they could jump down that far.

"I'll go first," he decided and carefully climbed over the balcony's banister. Even the small open courtyard now smelled strongly of smoke. When Shanar had reached the ground, Arevan followed, not looking entirely comfortable with such heights. But he also managed to jump down safely. 

"We should go that way," Shanar suggested, pointing towards the door to their right that led away from the burning tower. "There's also one of the servant staircases I often use."

Arevan nodded. As their ran down an empty and thankfully still smoke-free hallway towards the stairs, he asked, "What do you think happened? That tower has been empty for many rainy-seasons! Those were my grandmother's rooms."

"I have no idea," Shanar answered over his shoulder. "But I don't think it was just an accident." 

It was also strange that they hadn't met anyone yet. There were hundreds of people living in the palace. Where were they?

As they turned around a corner, they saw movements at the end of the hall. Metal surfaces reflected the light of the lamps.

"The narif'adir! Guards! We need help!" Arevan shouted as he recognized the moving figures as soldiers and started to run towards them. Shanar followed him with a bad feeling. There was something wrong here...

"It's him, the Prince! Seize him! Don't let him get away!" one of the guards shouted. "Remember your orders, men!" With drawn swords, the soldiers stormed towards Arevan.

"We have to get out of here!" Shanar pulled the stunned Arevan into an intersection that led to the servants' staircase. They stumbled downstairs, Shanar still pulling Arevan forward. "I... I don't understand! Those are my grandfather's soldiers! Why would they attack me?" he stammered.

"I don't think they still work for the Sovereign," Shanar murmured. All of his worries had come true - Commander Yahezid had surely taken over, seizing the throne by force since any underhanded methods had failed. 

The staircase let into another courtyard, this one on ground level, full of small wagons, sacks of grain, tons of lamp oil, crafting tools and other things to support the household. The door on the far side led into the city, enabling merchants and servants to deliver the goods. Both young men practically crashed into the closed door. 

"Sweet Shariha, no!" Shanar whispered as he tried to open the sturdy lock that held the bolt in place, but it was no use without a key.

"Step back!" Arevan shouted. He had grabbed an ax and hacked the bolt into pieces with a few well-aimed swings. With the pursuing soldiers practically breathing down their necks, they ran into the city. At this time of night, it was usually deserted, but the fire alarm from the palace had woken the inhabitants of this quarter. Half-naked people came running out of their houses, some panicking, some shouting for help, some running back to grab their weapons although there was no enemy in sight. Shanar and Arevan steered right into the crowd, hoping to lose their pursuers this way. The sight of a troop of soldiers with drawn weapons agitated the citizens even more, confirming their belief that the city was under attack by the sessera. Shanar, who even after all those rainy-seasons of life at the palace still knew the city's streets very well, chose small alleys and narrows little streets, turning at every possible intersection. Finally, the noise behind them had died down as they found themselves in a shabby alley not far from where Shanar used to live. 

"Where should we go?" Arevan panted. "We can't keep running like that! We need a safe place to hide!"

Shanar had thought about this during their flight. He didn't want to go to Alia and her husband or any other former neighbor or friend - it was too dangerous for them. "We go to the temple of Adan," he decided. "Priestess Nuriven will help us, I'm sure. All temple grounds are sacred, and no worldly lord has any power there."

Arevan nodded. "Let's get there.- Shanar?"

"What is it, your Highness?" Shanar carefully looked around a corner to see if the street beyond was still empty.

"Thank you. I guess you saved my life today... again. I really couldn't believe that Uncle Yahezid... "

Shanar answered grimly, "Don't thank me, your Highness. I wish with all my heart that it I wasn't right about him."

"I know. And what about my sister and my grandfather? And Aunt Taira and Uncle Ghajadin? We have to find out!"

"We will, your Highness. But we have to find shelter at the temple first. And... you're not the only one worrying about dear ones." Master Asnam, Sharistani, and Julanar could have been injured in the fire or even died... It was a horrible thought, and he firmly shoved it away. They had to get to safety first.

 

Their way through the city toward the temple of Adan was a breathless game of hide-and-seek, ducking into the shadows of an alleyway and hiding behind crates and stalls whenever soldiers or other people passed by. They didn't dare to show themselves to anyone since they didn't know whom to trust. What if Commander Yahezid had put a bounty on their heads? A red-headed young man in the company of a mehan'murad would be spotted easily. 

Finally, right before dawn, they reached the gates of the temple. It was custom to never lock the doors to allow people seeking help to get in at all times. Arevan and Shanar quickly rushed in, finding the main hall mostly empty. There was only a blond young boy in the customary light-yellow robes of an acolyte kneeling before the statue of Adan. He turned around at the sound of their footsteps. He had a cute face, but his eyes were milky and unfocused in the lamp light. "Welcome. May I help you?" he asked in a sweet voice.

Shanar suddenly remembered the boy from the temple's choir. He was blind.

"We'd like to speak to High Priestess Nuriven. It's an emergency," Shanar told him. "And we can't stay out here."

The child nodded, face suddenly serious. "Please follow me." 

Unerringly, the blind boy let them through a series of hallways in the back of the temple to a simple guest quarter where recovering patients could stay. The small room held nothing but just two beds and a night stand with a basin of fresh water. The first light of dawn shone through the high window, tinting the sky a bloody red. 

A few moments later, Nuriven joined them. She must have been already up for she was dressed immaculately. 

"You Highness, Shanar, what happened?", she asked. "What are you doing here at this hour?"

"We are on the run, Priestess," Arevan said, taking a few deep, shaky breaths. When Shanar noticed that Arevan was unable to continue, he told Nuriven everything that had happened during the night. While she listened, her expression became dark. 

"Now the worst thing has happened," she finally said. "But don't worry, you are safe here for the time being. The only other person who knows that you're here is little Jelenar, and he has no idea who you are. My healers and I will be called to the palace soon to help the injured, and I will find out what has become of the royal family. Try to get some sleep. Jelenar will bring you something to eat later."

Shanar and Arevan thanked her as she left them alone. Arevan slumped down on one of the beds, his brave facade crumbling as the rush of the flight wore off. Shanar felt deadly tired, his heart heavy with worry, but he couldn't allow himself to break down. He had to take care of Arevan. He sat down next to the him, putting an arm around him. "Nuriven will tell us everything soon," he reassured him. "There's nothing we can do right now. You're alive, and that's all that matters."

Arevan flung himself at him, breaking down into a sob like he had done as a child so many rainy-seasons ago. Shanar held him gently, stroking the tousled hair that was still as silky and fine. He felt like crying as well, but Arevan needed his strength now. There was no time for any weakness now. The had to be strong for the both of them.

 

~>*<~

 

It was around noon when Nuriven returned, her face pale. Arevan had finally fallen asleep in Shanar's lap, but was immediately awake when she entered. She looked tired and worried.

"There is no delicate way to tell you this, your Highness," she began. "Your grandfather, our beloved Sovereign, is dead, as well as Lady Taira. They all died in the fire. I examined their bodies. There were no signs of violence. The deadly smoke of the fire suffocated them."

All color was gone from Arevan's face as he stared at her. "And Liyel ... And Yahezid?" His voice was barely a whisper.

"The Princess is alright. Commander Yahezid however... he was badly burned. They found him near the fire's origin, at the old tower. I tried everything I could to help him, but it was too late." Nuriven paused. "He told me something with his dying breath. It was a message for you, your Highness."

"What did he say?" Shanar asked, his arms still around Arevan. He could barely believe what he heard.

"He said,  'Tell Arevan I'm sorry for everything. I tried to stop it all, but it was too late. I was a blind fool. I didn't know what kind of monster was right beside me all this time.' Then his strength left him."

"By the gods..." Arevan took a few shaky breaths.

"And who is in charge now?" Shanar felt the distant clarity of a shock guiding his words. "Who ordered the narif'adir to capture us?"

Nuriven's eyes burned. "It was Lord Ghajadin. He's the new Sovereign now."

 

 


	12. Chapter 10 - Gifts

 

 

Shanar and Arevan stared at Nuriven in utter shock. Neither of them could believe what they had heard. Friendly, pretty Ghajadin, hardly more than an ornament to Commander Yahezid, had been planning to take over the throne all along without anyone noticing? Judging by Yahezid's last words, he had realized what his consort had been up to, and had tried to stop him - and was surely killed for it. Although brutal and unforgiving, Yahezid hadn't been a murderer and had stayed loyal to his family until the end.

"Did you see anyone else? What about Master Asnam?" Shanar finally asked Nuriven.

"Yes, he is alive. He had some minor burns, but nothing serious. His young mistress, however, was in bad shape. She had been inhaling too much smoke."

Shanar's heart skipped a beat. "Sharistani? Will she survive?"

"I think so, although her condition was critical. One of my best healers is still tending to her," Nuriven assured him. "But there are good chances that she and her baby will get well again. I examined her myself."

"Her baby? She never got around to tell me she was pregnant," Shanar murmured in relief. Sharistani's worried words a few weeks back and her paleness now made sense. "And the rest of the household?"

"Most of the other servants survived since the fire broke out near the royal family's quarters, although there were some casualties and injuries. The soldiers, however, seemed to have been alarmed before. None of them were harmed, and all were wearing full armor."

Arevan clenched his fists and jumped up. "That damned creature set the palace on fire to kill my family, and somehow managed to pull the narif'adir on his side! I'll kill him with my bare hands! I'll..."

"Your Highness, don't be reckless! We can't do anything against him at the moment," Shanar tried to calm him down. "We need a solid plan and trustworthy allies. You can't go out there on your own and challenge him!"

"No, you cannot," Nuriven concurred. "Because Lord Ghajadin declared you dead. A poor servant boy about your height, burned beyond recognition, will be buried with all the honors of a prince."

Arevan slumped down again. "So I'm dead," he whispered. "I'm dead to the world. Liyel will be devastated."

"But the soldiers are still looking for you. Ghajadin knows you are still alive and will not stop until he gets you. I saw him get a report from his men while I tended to the injured. His eyes were as cold as a deadeater bird's. Sooner or later, he will look for you at the temples." Nuriven sighed. "I really wish I could do more for you, but you have to get out of this city, your Highness, and soon."

"I can't leave! I have to fight for my rights! I have to let Liyel know that I'm still alive at least!" Arevan protested.

"Priestess, can you get a message to Master Asnam? He has to know that we're still alive. Maybe he can help us," Shanar asked.

Nuriven nodded. "I will. I promised to look at his mistress again anyway."

 

~>*<~

 

The day and following night passed without anything happening. Arevan alternated between pacing restlessly like a caged animal and huddling in a corner, brooding. Jelenar, the blind boy, brought them food and fresh water. Shanar was reminded of the hours before he was sold at the slave auction - helpless and with an uncertain future. And where should they go from here? Nuriven was right; staying in the city was too risky. The other noble families wouldn't be much help, either. Arevan's next relatives were his mother's family, the Anessirs - the same family as Ghajadin's since he and Arevan's mother had been cousins. All of their dreams had come true by one of their offspring gaining the throne, even under such tragic circumstances. The other two most noble families, the Kha'als and the Talmans, wouldn't risk their status by supporting a mere boy who wasn't even of age and could not prove his identity. The smaller noble clans, like the Di'Uzras and the Malhads - Asnam's family - didn't have enough influence. And all the other citizens had no reason to help them, either. All of them lived in deep respect, even fear of the narif'adir, and Arevan had almost never appeared in public. No simple man or woman would risk their existence for an unknown youth and thus the anger of the new Sovereign.

They were trapped.

Finally, Nuriven returned. "Your friend Sharistani is out of danger," she reassured Shanar. "I got the chance to talk to her and Master Asnam in private for a few moments. They were very relieved to hear that you are both alive and well. Since there wasn't much time, Master Asnam promised to send a messenger here as soon as possible. He suggested that you keep your heads down for the time being."

"I'm tired of hearing this!" Arevan shot back. He stood there, fists clenched, eyes smoldering like a volcano right before an outbreak. "I can't just sit here and do nothing!"

"Let's wait for Master Asnam's message," Shanar suggested. "He knows the court better than anyone else and surely has an idea on how to proceed."

"Asnam can't help us! The only way to solve this is to go back to the palace and stab a sword into Ghajadin's treacherous heart! He can't refuse a formal duel if I challenge him!"

"Please calm down. You are not even of age yet, so you can't challenge him - even if you would get as far as the throne room. The narif'adir will arrest you first and throw you into the dungeon - or kill you on the spot!" Shanar stood up and held him by the shoulders. "Look at me. It would be suicide!"

"Don't you dare to defy me and treat me like a child, mehan'murad!" Arevan barked at him, shaking his hands off as he headed for the door Nuriven was still blocking. "And you, get out of the way, woman!"

"Arevan, stay here! This isn't the right way!"

Shanar's sharp words echoed through the small room, stopping Arevan in his tracks. He turned around, the insane fire in his eyes slowly dying down, giving way to grief and helplessness.

"I'm... I'm sorry," he finally whispered. "By the gods, Shanar, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to... And Priestess, please forgive my rudeness. I just... I don't know what..."

"We know," Nuriven answered gently. "Please just listen to us. This isn't the time for hasty actions. You will get back your throne, but not today. Now get some more rest. We'll speak later."

When she had closed the door behind her, Arevan pulled Shanar into an embrace.

"I'm sorry," he repeated. "I really didn't mean to... You're right, of course. My temperament got the better of me again."

"There's nothing to excuse, your Highness," Shanar replied, stroking his hair. "But I'm sorry for my disrespect. I called you by your name."

Arevan let go of him to look him into the eyes. "I didn't even notice. But I called you a... I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to."

Shanar shook his head. "I didn't notice either," he lied. "And I truly didn't mean to order you around. I'm just worried about your life."

"I know that as well. I... I don't know what I would to without you, Shanar."

As Arevan pulled him into another embrace, Shanar closed his eyes and tried not to think about the fact that he had just used his pendant again. The little piece of metal was still glowing hotly against his neck, taming Arevan's anger and making him see reason again. Or was it? He had given Arevan a direct order, and he had obeyed. Even Nuriven had noticed; Shanar had seen how she had gotten pale for a moment. 

When Arevan's hands wandered lower, Shanar knew that just one little word would keep Arevan from touching him ever again. But he stayed silent as the pendant slowly grew cold.

 

~>*<~

 

We give thanks to all your gifts

Gentle god of light

For all the fruits of harvest-time

That keep us fed and bright

 

We give thanks to all your gifts

Gentle god of life

For all the flowers and the crops

A world without a strife

 

We give thanks to all your gifts

Gentle god of health

We sing this song in gratefulness

Your gifts are our wealth

 

 

Shanar had dozed off, Arevan as usual pinning him down with his weight in one of the narrow beds. The familiar lyrics, faintly heard from the temple's great hall, reminded Shanar of the Light Festival a couple of weeks back. Children got showered with gifts, and couples got married. It was the most joyful of times in a rainy-season, a festival celebrated among family and loved ones. 

Shanar's siblings had spent it without him again, of course. He missed them so much, but as things were right now, he might never dare to see them again for fear of endangering them. He couldn't even get word to them that he was alright. They must be worried after the fire in the palace.

The temple's choir repeated the song, little Jelenar's clear soprano soaring above the others. Despite the grim situation, Shanar smiled. This was the way music was supposed to be - pure and innocent, moving people's hearts with sheer beauty, not a strange magic Shanar didn't fully understand. If Arevan ever found out about that, he would never forgive him. His proud soul, still so immature and reckless and yet good at its core, surely couldn't stand this humiliation. This was the one secret Shanar would keep from him forever.

A knock on the door pulled him out of his thoughts. 

"One moment, please!" he called, gently shaking Arevan awake. Grumbling, he complied and grabbed his clothes. As soon as they looked somehow presentable again, Shanar opened the door. It was Nuriven. One look at both young men's tousled hair, however, told her everything.

"Master Asnam's messenger is here," she said and stepped aside to admit the newcomer. 

"Julanar! It's so good to see you! Are you alright?" Shanar rushed towards her and took her hands, then stopped. She was wearing a simple set of clothing and a cloak, as well as sandals. Shanar had never seen her in anything but fancy entertainer's clothing. But there was something else about her, something he couldn't place. She looked down on their joined hands, and as Shanar followed her gaze, he noticed that the slave tattoo around her finger was gone. She was free.

For the first time since he had known her, Julanar smiled.

"It is good to see you as well, child," she said in a hoarse, heavily accented voice. 

Shanar stared at her in disbelief. "You can talk?" he stated the obvious. "What happened? Please, take a seat."

They all sat down on the beds to listen to her.

"Master Asnam and Sharistani send greetings. They are both well," Julanar began. "Since Lady Taira is dead, there is no need for musicians of our kind any more, so Master Asnam asked Lord Ghajadin for Sharistani's and my freedom. He granted it. No person is truly evil, and he always had a soft spot for the fate of our kind. Master Asnam asked me to deliver a message to you. He wanted to write a letter, but the moment the special cleaning lotion washed away the mark of servitude on my skin and thus my shame, I was free to speak again."

"I'm so happy that you and Sharistani are free now." Shanar squeezed her hands. "And I heard that she was going to have a baby? She never told me!"

"She did not know for long. But now, her child will be born in freedom."

"I wish I could be there for her," Shanar said wistfully. All these horrible events had at least brought one good thing. "But what did Asnam suggest we should do now?"

"You should leave the city. Master Asnam also said that you should not attempt to find any help in the other big cities. Lord Ghajadin has traveled to all of them during the last few rainy-seasons and has gained some contacts and influence there. The authorities of these cities will never risk the good relations among each other by challenging the current ruler of Al'Menara. Everyone knows that this city has the most soldiers."

"Then where should we go? The little oases out in the desert are populated by simple farmers and merchants. There's no help to be found," Arevan protested. 

"You are right, your Highness," Julanar replied. "But I have a suggestion. You have to go where everything began, where no one, not even Lord Ghajadin will come looking for you - at least not yet. You have to cross the wall and go north."

"What? Are you crazy, woman?" Arevan stared at her as if she had suggested he'd swim the ocean in the hopes of finding a new shore. "The sessera are out there, as well as dangerous animals and no water! What in Adir's name could be gained by going there? Now that's what I would call suicidal!"

But Shanar wasn't so quick to wave this idea aside. "We could follow the river to the ruins of Shir'Murad," he said. "That's where we have to go, right?"

Julanar nodded. "Yes. Because it has to end where it began, child. I remember the night when the hordes of the noalsera stormed the city, outnumbering the soldiers by hundreds. I remember the desperate people fleeing the city in night clothes. And I remember the noble Lady Badija Anessir, blond and beautiful, the wife of our ruler, Lord Murad's son Jergan. A little boy was clinging to her ragged clothing, eyes wide with terror. In the evenings, she pointed toward the burning city that was illuminating the night sky.  'This is your city, my boy,' she said. 'Always remember.' "

Now everything fell into place, like pieces of a puzzle. Ghajadin's strange friendliness toward the mehan'murad; his comments about other former Shir'Murad citizens living in shame; his plan to convince Arevan to take the city back...

"It was Ghajadin, right? He's Murad's grandson and the rightful heir to the lost city," Shanar murmured. "And that's why he wanted to gain control over Al'Menara - to have the means to take Shir'Murad back and rebuild it. All of this, all the attacks, the deaths, the schemes... Just to get his lost honor back. He told me himself that the old Sovereign thought this plan too risky, so he had to try another way. He tried to get Yahezid in a position of power by assassinating our prince, but it failed. He was sent away, and when he came back, he tried to convince me to talk you into his crazy plans. - That's what I asked you not to listen to, your Highness," he told Arevan. "But I had no idea he would go that far. When this didn't work either, he decided to kill everyone. Yahezid must have tried to stop him, but failed."

Arevan took a deep breath. "I still can't believe it," he murmured. "How can anyone be so desperate to get back his birthright?" 

"A few hours ago, you wanted to storm the palace on your own for the same reasons, your Highness," Shanar reminded him gently. "But there's a big difference between risking one's own life and taking the lives of others to get what you want."

"But do you think we can find something in the ruins that will help us, Julanar? How can we stop Ghajadin?" Arevan asked, getting back to the topic at hand.

"Lord Murad's sword is still there. Lord Jergan wielded it in battle, but it broke as he fought a noalsera." Julanar paused, shuddering. "I was there. I remember it as if it was yesterday. I was living in the palace as a musician at Lord Jergan's court. I had hidden myself and saw the duel with my own eyes. The noalsera - It was their leader, I think - took the broken tip with him. But Lord Jergan's captain of the guard hid the sword in the throne room."

"How can an old, rusty, broken sword help us?" Arevan asked with a frown. "If we really find it, what then? Do you think Ghajadin will hand me the throne back if I give him his grandfather's old sword? He could have tried to find it already if it's that important to him."

"No one has ever dared to go back to the ruins, not even Lord Ghajadin," Julanar replied. "And he does not know that it was left there. His mother told him that it was lost in the fire. Murad's sword was the insignia of his reign."

"I think I remember a story about that sword," Shanar said. "My grandfather told me about it. Murad had gotten the sword from the priests of the temple of Adir after they had received a divine vision. The sword was engraved with a prophecy that said,  'Hold me, and you hold everything. Lose me, and you lose everything' . Murad believed that as long as he had this sword, his dream of a new city across the wall could become true."

"And the city was lost the moment his son lost the sword," Julanar replied. "We all knew of this prophecy. Lord Ghajadin would do anything to get the sword back if he knew it was still out there."

"Then we have to find it first. Ghajadin won't lose any time starting his expedition into the desert to reclaim the city. He has waited and planned for it long enough."

"But what about the sessera?" Arevan insisted. "They are still out there and will attack us on sight!"

Julanar was quiet for a moment before she said, "They will not if I go with you."

Arevan was far from convinced. "And why is that?"

"Because... I am one of them." Julanar's strange blue eyes rested on Shanar. "As you are, child. The creatures the mehan'shari - your people, your Highness - call 'sand demons' and the dark-skinned people from the desert joining the citizens of Shir'Murad are one and the same."

 

 

 


	13. Chapter 11 - Grains of Sand

 

Stunned silence reigned for a while. Neither Shanar nor Arevan could truly grasp what Julanar had just revealed.

"Many rainy-seasons ago, the shel'vra, the great fire mountain in the north of this island broke out," Julanar continued in a soft voice. "Many clans of the mehan'ses - Children of the Sand, as we call ourselves - were destroyed. There was little help from the remaining clans, so some of us were desperate enough to decide to go to the strange new city that Murad had built, and to our great surprise, we were greeted with open arms. Since none of us wore the menacing armor that makes us look like demons, they never made the connection. We started a peaceful life there. But there were others who had lost their clans and blamed the mehan'shari for it. They thought the shel'vra breaking out had been a punishment for not fighting the mehan'shari properly. Those warriors became the noalsera, the black demons. When they learned that we had gone to Shir'Murad, they waited for the right moment, and then attacked. They wanted to kill all mehan'shari and punish us for betraying our people." 

"No," Arevan whispered. "I can't believe it! The sessera are demons, not men!"

"Our warriors wear armor made of the skin and claws of a seskra, a sand dragon, to appear that way," Julanar replied. "Every youth coming of age has to go out into the desert and kill a seskra to make his own armor out of it. But underneath, we are people. We live in tents, not houses, and we have no written language like you, but we have old and proud traditions."

"But... why did no one ever realize this?" Shanar persisted. "There were so many battles... The mehan'shari must have searched the bodies of their enemies!"

"No. A fallen mehan'ses warrior is immediately taken away by his companions. The mehan'shari never got their hands on a dead enemy. That way, we could keep the fear and superstition alive." Julanar watched them carefully. "I told you this because you, Shanar, are one of us. And you, your Highness - I think one day, you can bring peace to both our people."

"Peace between us and those monsters that killed my father? Never!" Arevan growled. 

"There are no more monsters among the mehan'ses than there are among the mehan'shari," Julanar said with a sigh and stood up. "I know that you have so many reasons to hate us. But we are not all like the noalsera. Please think about it. I will leave you now and come back tomorrow evening."

 

As soon as she had closed the door behind her, Arevan turned toward Shanar. "This is crazy! Why should we believe one word she said?"

"Because she has no reason to lie. Our best chance lies in finding Murad's sword before you even think of challenging Ghajadin."

"Shanar, did you even listen to her? She claims that she and you are sessera! How can you stay this calm?" Arevan demanded. "This is absurd!"

Shanar slowly shook his head as he sorted out his feelings. "No, it isn't. Everything she said - it all makes sense to me now. My whole life, half of my past was shrouded in darkness. But I want to know it all now. Julanar said that her - and my - people have a real culture. She might have even known my father! I want to know where I come from. And being the child of an enemy is always better than being a mehan'murad, child of shame." He looked directly into Arevan's eyes. "I'm sorry, your Highness. You'll probably hate me now for being... one of them. But I need to learn the whole truth."

"Maybe. But this still doesn't concern me," Arevan snarled. "Even if those sessera are truly people like we are, why should I agree to a peace treaty? They are the ones attacking us! They burned down Shir'Murad and killed their own kinsmen. They are savages! And even if getting Murad's sword is possible, I see no way in getting through their land unharmed. For all that Julanar told us, her people see her as a traitor for living with the mehan'shari. And they will kill me on sight! Shanar, this is madness!"

"Yes, it is," Shanar agreed, suddenly smiling. "But desperate times call for desperate measures. And I trust Julanar. She'll take us through the desert. But first, we'll disguise ourselves. We'll paint your face and dye your hair until you look like a mehan'ses as well."

Arevan blanched. "You can't be serious! Me, looking like one of them?"

Shanar frowned. "Do you have a better idea? Then please tell me."

For a moment, they stared at each other before Arevan shook his head. "No," he grumbled. "But I still hate this whole plan!"

 

~>*<~

 

Priestess Nuriven didn't ask any questions when Shanar told her they would go on a journey north beyond the wall, needing simple traveling garments and equipment, dry food for several days, weapons and some dye. The real problem was getting out of the city. The walls were heavily guarded day and night, and although their main purpose was to keep enemies out, crossing them in the other direction was equally difficult. They couldn't risk being detected by the narif'adir. It was Nuriven again who came to their rescue.

"There is a tunnel underneath this temple," she told them. "As you know, the river Tayar flows underneath this city, its origins far north beyond the wall. Al'Menara was built on one gigantic bridge across the river. One of the tasks of the priesthood of the Temple of Adan is to ensure that the water is safe to drink before it supplies the city's fountains and keeps on flowing into our territory. To do that, we have a way to access the river directly. There are several barriers and traps down there designed to keep enemies out, but they can be moved from this side so you can cross over safely."

"And how do we get back?" Arevan asked. 

Nuriven smiled. "I will see to it that every day after sunset one of my priests will be down there, waiting for you. We'll agree on a password so he will know that it is really you."

"It sounds like you have done this before," Arevan remarked sceptically.

Nuriven confirmed it. "We check this way regularly to ensure that nobody can get in. It is the wall's biggest weakness. But we cannot risk letting the river's water untested into our territory."

"Do you know of other ways through the wall?" Shanar asked her. "What about the other temples?"

"Health is my deity's domain. The other temples have no interest in the river. And the Temple of Adir supports the protection of the wall by training and encouraging young boys to become part of the narif'adir later."

"It seems like you have thought of everything. If we really want to do this, we should leave soon." Arevan's opinion about this journey hadn't changed one bit. "As soon as Julanar returns tomorrow night, we should go."

 

~>*<~

 

The plan was set. Nuriven took just one other priest into her confidence and sent him to get everything they needed. He would also be the one to wait for them underneath the temple. It was an old man called Rajif who had been born with a crippled foot, living his whole life in the temple's service. He didn't ask any questions, just shook his head and furrowed his bushy white brows.

Under protest, Arevan accepted Shanar's idea of disguising him as a Child of the Sand. The natural brown dye of some roots darkened his flaming red hair to the shade of burned wood and the fair skin of his face, neck, and hands to a deep brown like Julanar's. Since they couldn't risk looking like mixed blood, Shanar also dyed his skin. The effect was remarkable - as long as nobody looked closer as Arevan's eyes, which had a completely unusual color for a mehan'ses, they would be safe. Julanar also told them that the warriors did not always wear their fearsome armor and preferred sand-colored cloaks for long travels. She would claim to be on a spiritual journey, accompanied by her young relatives. The Children of the Sand had many holy places like strangely formed rocks or small oases. 

Shanar took all this new information in like a thirsting man drinking fresh water. There were so many questions, but the journey would allow him to ask Julanar anything he wanted. He knew from his mother and grandfather that the exodus out of Shir'Murad had taken more than two weeks, but back then, they had been a large group with little children, carrying the injured and dying with them. Julanar estimated the journey to Shir'Murad to take about a week - if no sand storm would stop them. They would travel along the river so that getting fresh water would be no problem.

It all sounded so easy, but fact was that Shanar was scared to death, and he knew that Arevan was as well. Traveling beyond the wall alone, with little weaponry and and without knowing what to expect was terrible. All their lives, Shanar and Arevan had lived with the unshakable fact that beyond the high, safe Walls of Ghihera, there was the most terrible place on Badal'Shari, full of untold dangers. It was madness to go there.

But there was no other way. Julanar's story of Murad's sword was the only hope they could cling to. Ghajadin was to be fought and defeated only from higher ground, and so far, the current Sovereign had every asset on his side. 

 

~>*<~

 

When Julanar returned at dusk, they were as ready to go as they would ever be. Both carried their trusted swords, and Nuriven had organized a bow and a quiver full of arrows for Shanar and a solid staff for Julanar. With some dried food, waterskins, and blankets for the night tied to little packs on their back, they looked liked some unremarkable desert travelers. Julanar was dressed similarly and took a good look at Shanar's and Arevan's painted faces and hands before she nodded grimly. "As long as you do not talk, we should be fine."

Nuriven accompanied them to the stairs that let down to the underground river. Old Rajif was waiting there with a lamp. "May the blessing of the Four Gods be upon you," Nuriven said, touching their foreheads lightly. "Please return safely. We will pray for you."

"Thank you," Shanar whispered, then he followed Rajif and the others.

The stairs let down into a large tunnel. Rajif took a moment to light the lamps there with his own so they could see where they were going. A high stone ceiling carried the weight of the entire temple and a good part of the city. To the side of the river, a small gangway led into the darkness. The river was flowing quietly, its water clear and smelling fresh.

"This way", Rajif pointed and went down to the left. In silence, the three travelers followed him for a while until the scenery changed. Right before them, a set of metal grates blocked their way. Various lines of metal spikes, a long as a man's height, had been stuck into the bottom of the river, pointing outward. No intruder would get past. Beyond the grates and spikes, the water fell down from a very small opening in a huge stone wall.

Rajif lit a few more lamps and then started to turn a huge wooden wheel fixed to the tunnel's side. Arevan helped him, and slowly, the part of the grates blocking the small gangway was lifting one by one. After that, Rajif pulled a lever, and the spikes retracted. It was an ingenious invention, letting Shanar wonder why the city didn't have any more of these clever mechanisms. They would make a lot of work much easier. 

Rajif gestured toward the opening. "It's safe now to go through. You have to climb some stone steps, and then you are beyond the wall. Take a moment to get used to the darkness, and then go along the wall until you are out of the guards' sight. Any torch would be seen immediately by them." He regarded them sceptically. "You remember the passwords, do you?"

Arevan scoffed. "Of course! We clank against the grate five times, then three times. You ask, 'Who is it?', and we answer, 'The red sunbird, the blue songbird, and the dark desertbird, flying at night to victory.'"

"Very well." Rajif was satisfied. "Good luck to you. May Adan protect you and lead you safely."

Julanar took point. Once they were past the gruesome traps, the stairs were visible. Silently, they climbed up, carefully crouching through the hole in the wall. It was as thick as three mens' length, making it a stifling, dark tunnel. Shanar could barely breathe, but continued on until he saw the faint light of the moons, illuminating the desert. 

He suppressed the urge to gasp. It was huge, filling the entire horizon in soft hills. There was nothing else but sand.

Julanar took his arm and pushed him back against the wall. Slowly, they crept along the wall, listening intently to any sign of danger from above. Finally, they had reached the city's end where the wall wasn't guarded anymore, but set with spikes similar to those underground. From here, Julanar led them straight into the desert. Looking up at the stars once in a while to get her bearings, she seemed to know exactly where he was going. 

Deep into the night, they finally found the river again. It was wider, meandering through the desert hills, flanked by huge green trees and bushes - a strange sight in all the emptiness. Neither Shanar nor Arevan had ever gone out into the desert, living in a city with lots a wells, so they could only imagine how important such a lifeline was for every creature existing out here. Julanar took a look around to make sure there were no animals inside the bushes before she told them to make camp among a set of trees. "It will get colder soon," she said. "We continue before sunrise and then rest again around midday, when it's too hot."

They took out their blankets, filled their waterskins with river water and nibbled at their rations. It was incredibly silent - no birds, no chatter, no rumbling of wheels. Arevan was shivering visibly, although he tried to hide it in front of a former servant woman, so Shanar knew better than to pull closer to him. He wasn't freezing at all, but then again, he had never been very sensitive to temperature changes - another trait of the Children of the Sand? He felt Julanar's eyes on him, then she said, "I have no instrument with me, but why not sing a song, Shanar? We are safe here."

This was a good idea and would certainly help calm Arevan's nerves. "Would you... teach me a song you know of your people?" Shanar asked Julanar. "Certainly they have songs about a journey through the desert."

She smiled. "Of course. I try to translate it. It goes like this..." In her slightly rusty voice, she sang it to Shanar until he joined in.

 

Hot and cold, soft and hard

Small pieces of a vast place part

Who can count the grains of sand?

Who knows the endless desert's end?

 

A life is a like a grain of sand

In a desert without end

One grain among countless grains

A life's worth is what remains

 

I find my worth by day and night

I know that my way is right

My journey on the grains of sand

Will take me to my journey's end

 

As they finally stopped, Shanar realized that Arevan had sunken down on his blanket and fallen asleep. With a fond smile, Shanar pulled his cloak snugly around him to keep him warm before he lay down next to him. As he closed his own eyes, he could still feel Julanar's gentle gaze on him.

 

 


	14. Chapter 12 - Initiation

 

As soon as the sky began to turn a hazy shade of red, Julanar woke them up. A few fruits were gathered from the bushes before they continued their way along the river. Around midday, they paused again to rest. Arevan was exhausted, and although he was fit and trained from weapons training, this kind of hard travel demanded a kind of endurance and tenacity he still lacked. Shanar adapted far better although his body wasn't trained any differently, and Julanar looked fresh and completely at ease. It was clear that she was back in her natural element.

During walking, they had to concentrate on their footsteps and breathing so there had been little room for talking, but Shanar was still as curious as ever and wanted to know more about Julanar's - and his own - people. Arevan however, was still slightly disgusted by the sessera and declared he'd rather go for a quick wash in the river to cool himself.

As soon as they were alone, Shanar asked, "Julanar, there is something I wanted to ask you. Back when we met for the first time, I told you the name of my father, and you reacted strangely. Ever since, I've been wondering if you knew him?"

Julanar nodded. "Yes, I knew Gilbadr Jen Mohan."

"Jen Mohan... Is that the name of his family?"

"Partly. His name means Gilbadr, son of Mohan. In our language, your name would be Shanar Jen Gilbadr. My real name...", she hesitated as if it was hard to remember, "is Rhuma Jeni Ayin. My mother Ayin was Mohan's sister. We were part of the same clan, the khitor. We lived next to the fire mountain."

"So my father and you were cousins! That makes you my aunt!" Shanar could barely believe it. A living member of his lost side of the family, right next to him all this time! "Why couldn't you tell me before?"

"As I said, my shame was too great. I could not speak of my clan while I was a slave," Julanar admitted. "Gilbadr and I were among the few of our clan that survived. I... lost my husband and my son back then. Gilbadr rescued me and convinced me to go with him to that strange city. I found new hope there as my talent as a musician and his extraordinary fighting skills gained us positions at Lord Jergan's court. There, we met your grandfather Dahir, a great lute player, and his lovely daughter Meraya. We entertained together, just like Sharistani, you and me at Al' Menara. Gilbadr fell in love with your mother there."

"They were entertainers at Lord Jergan's court? My grandfather and mother never told me," Shanar murmured. "I guess it was too painful for them, to remember what they had lost."

Julanar nodded. "Lord Jergan was a good man. Every citizen would get an audience, and the court's life was simple and happy. Often enough, he would give a great festivity for the whole city, and we would play our songs for thousands of people. That world is lost forever."

Shanar didn't know what to answer. He had lost something he had never known, but Julanar had lost her home and her life twice in a row. He silently admired her strength for surviving all of this. 

"Thank you for telling me. It means a lot to me," he finally said. "Would you like me to call you by your real name from now on?"

Julanar shook her head. "No, at least not yet. I still have to re-earn my right to wear it."

"Can you tell me more about my father?" Shanar asked carefully.

"Gilbadr was tall and strong, but a calm, careful fighter. He thought things through instead of just reacting. He was brave and fearless, always putting the well-being of his loved ones before his own. You remind me very much of him, child. You also have his eyes, like the water of an oasis at dawn." Julanar smiled sadly. "He would be very proud of you."

"Proud of me, a slave? You said yourself that there is no grater shame," Shanar whispered. "I don't think anyone could be proud of me."

"You did it for your family. And you risked your life to take care of the Prince. You are risking it even now, defending his honor. Your gods see it, as well as the Winds and the Sands my people worship. There is no greater thing in this world, and your father could not be prouder, if he were still alive, believe me." Julanar stood up. "I take a look around and hunt some fresh food. May I take your bow?"

"Of course!" Shanar gave it to her, trying not to be surprised that she knew how to use a bow. But it made sense, of course: there were a lot of different skills needed to survive in the desert, so men and women alike had to be able to hunt to feed their clan.

 

After a while, Shanar decided to go and take a look after Arevan. Although he knew of no dangerous creatures living inside the river, this was unknown territory. He had just taken a few steps toward the river when Arevan came running toward him through the bushes. He was still wet and only half clothed. "It's one of those creatures!" He shouted, rushing past Shanar and grabbing his sword. "Where's that woman?"

Shanar quickly drew his own sword, scanning the area in front of him for any signs of danger. "She went hunting with my bow. What creature?"

"Adir's fire! Of all the times! It's one of those seskra. It was hidden underneath some sand right next to the river, probably waiting for other animals that drink here!" Arevan had barely finished that sentence when the bushes in front of them moved, revealing a huge sand-colored lizard. If it could stand up on its hind legs, it would be as big a man, with sharp claws and spikes protruding from its back and running all the way down to its long tail. A split tongue appeared between the long teeth as it tasted the scent of its prey. Although the legs were rather short, it glided forward with the quickness of any lizard. 

Neither Shanar nor Arevan had time to think.They quickly jumped to the side when the creature shot toward them, and gave it a hard strike with the sword as it passed them. But the seskra was barely hurt; it just hissed in anger, its yellow eyes darting between the two of them as it decided which human it should kill first. The next second, it turned and attacked Arevan. He took another strike at the creature, trying to keep its snapping jaws out of reach. 

Shanar had realized while striking at the seskra how incredibly hard its scales were and feverishly thought of a way to hurt the creature. Hitting its outer scales was useless, but surely it belly would be softer. He hoped it, at least. But how to get there? The seskra was keeping close to the ground while trying to bite Arevan.There was no time to lose.

Shanar got behind the seskra, trying to evade the swishing tail of the creature. With a lunge, Shanar grabbed the seskra from behind, feeling the vicious spikes piercing clothes and skin, and then, with one last burst of strength, pulled the upper body of the creature backwards. As soon as the seskra's belly lifted from the ground, he shouted, "Arevan, quickly!"

Arevan had realized in an instant what Shanar had tried to do. He stepped forward and slit the creature's belly, once again barely escaping the snapping teeth. With a hissing shriek, the seskra fell down, dark blood from its wound splattering Arevan.

Once more, silence reigned. Heavily breathing, Shanar got up from his awkward position of half-lying on top of the seskra. Blood, this time a much more familiar shade of bright read, stained his clothes and hands. He looked up at Arevan, sword still in hand, spattered with blood, eyes as wild and dangerous as the seskra's.

"By the Sands, are you alright?" Julanar came rushing toward them. She had a small furry creature slung over her shoulder. "I heard the cry of a seskra!"

"It attacked us, but his Highness killed it," Shanar explained.

"Only with your help," Arevan amended. "Shanar grabbed it from behind so I could get to its vulnerable belly."

Julanar's stern face turned form worry to something very similar to proud happiness. "Well done. The seskra usually do bot stay so close to the water so I did not think to warn you of it. As I told you, Shanar, my people go out to hunt a seskra as part of the ritual of becoming adults. You two would be full members of a clan now."

"I'm not one of your barbarous nomad people," Arevan hissed. 

"But I am," Shanar replied, feeling tired. He hadn't lost a lot of blood, but the little wounds started to hurt now. "How is the ritual completed?"

"The seskra's skin will serve as your armor. You bathe in its blood and eat its flesh together with the whole clan," Julanar explained. "We don't have the right tools to skin this one, but I will make a necklace out of its claws for you to wear. And its meat is very tasty. We will have plenty of food for the rest of the journey."

Arevan grumbled, "At least one good thing. I'll wash this filth off." Sword still in hand, he went back toward the river.

Julanar came closer, carefully examining the dead creature to make sure it was really gone and then taking a critical eye on Shanar. "Although I told you nothing of our seskra hunt, you did the right thing on instinct," she said. "The Winds and the Sands are speaking to you, child."

Julanar started to sing softly as she knelt down and dipped her finger into the seskra's blood and then painted a symbol on Shanar's neck with it, right at the place where her own tattoo was. 

When she had finished, Shanar asked softly, "Another song of your... our people?"

She nodded. "It is our song of initiation.There are only a few words to it.

 

May the Sands carry you safely

When you hunt

When you work

When you fight

 

May the Winds follow you gently

When you sing

When you pray

When you love

 

May the Stars shine on you brightly

When you sleep

When you dream

When you die

 

 

Shanar bowed his head in thankfulness. It was as good a wish anyone would ever need in their life. 

Julanar still smiled. "Now you should go and clean up as well, then I'll take a look at your injuries. And take your sword with you in case we have more unwanted visitors."

Now it was Shanar's time to smile back. "I don't think neither of us will ever go anywhere in this desert unarmed anymore."

 

Shanar got to the river quickly. He scanned the shore carefully for any new signs of danger, but everything was quiet except for the soft ripples in the water betraying Arevan's presence. He had just dipped his head underwater and came up with a splash again, stroking his hair back from his eyes. The cool water ran down Arevan's toned boy, hiding the fact that his skin was party painted. The dark paint in his face however, made his eyes glow even brighter as he opened them. Shanar realized that he was staring. Then Arevan slowly held out his hand. 

There was no way to deny him. Shanar had no idea how he got out of his clothes that quickly, but what seemed just an instant later he was wading into the river, feeling the wonderful coolness of the water on his br uised skin.

Shanar had no idea what was happening to him. His heart hammered in his chest like it had never before. There was no desert, no river, no mortal danger just moments ago, just the two of them. Shanar looked into Arevan's face that was so familiar and yet so strange in its intensity. Any signs of childhood seemed to have been washed away by the seskra's blood. What was left now was a man - not an inexperienced child in need of Shanar's care, but with a desperate hunger for a very different kind of closeness. Shanar had never felt this kind of desire in Arevan, not even in the horrible, helpless moment he had been under the spell of Shanar's pendant. But now, they were free of it.

Arevan's gazed burned into him like the twin suns in the sky, as he suddenly pulled him close, taking a few steps back until they were back in deeper water. Shanar lost his hold on the ground as Arevan grabbed his legs and pulled them around his hips. In reflex, Shanar slung his arms around Arevan's neck. Time seemed to stop, making it difficult to breathe for Shanar. Arevan's skin was searingly hot against his. If they hadn't been standing in water, they might have burned to a crisp. 

And then Arevan was kissing him. The kiss was deep and hungry, and there was no hesitation, no question. Shanar could do nothing else than return the kiss, feeling the heat of it pouring into his belly. Impatient hands roamed his body, touching him in places they hadn't dared to go before. All the gentle kissing and caressing, all the shy, sweet intimacy that had been taking place between them so far seemed truly childish in comparison to the breathless heat of this moment. And there would be no stopping now. This time, it would be more than just hands and lips and bodies pressing against each other. 

A very small voice back in Shanar's head reminded him that this wasn't real. They were both feeling the rush of the fight, the thrill of escaping death by hair's breadth. It was nothing more than pure instinct, the blind need to remind themselves that they were still alive.

But was there any better reason? 

Shanar closed his eyes, trying to relax as Arevan pushed into him. Half of his weight was carried by the water, the other by Arevan's arms that seemed infinitely stronger now than before. His whole body felt strangely raw, but Shanar didn't care. Nothing mattered anymore in this moment.

Arevan held him still for a moment, heavily breathing. As Shanar opened his eyes again, he encountered that burning gaze once more. Its wild, fiery passion took his breath away, but there was something else, something tender underneath the molten gold of Arevan's eyes. Not the sweet yet selfish feelings of a child, but something deeper Shanar didn't dare to name. 

He had no time to think about it anymore as Arevan started to move. Water splashed around them, and Shanar instinctively tightened his grip around Arevan's neck. The heat filling him was becoming more unbearable by the moment, but yet wasn't enough. Arevan seemed to agree because he suddenly stopped, walking a few steps until he had reached the river's edge. Shanar momentarily lost his balance as he was put down onto the sandy beach before Arevan drove into him again, this time much more forceful. Shanar gasped in surprise, feeling Arevan deep inside him, touching his body and heart to the very core.

"Shanar..." It was just a breathless whisper, but a plea and a command at the same time. Shanar wanted to say something, anything, but all he could do was cry out Arevan's name as orgasm hit him. Arevan was shuddering as he reached his peak as well before he heavily sank down on Shanar. 

Shanar closed his eyes once more, trying to calm his thundering heart as his fingers combed through Arevan's wet hair, an old and familiar gesture. "I'm sorry," was all he could think of to say after a few moments. "I called you by your given name again, your Highness."

Arevan kissed Shanar's neck right below the bloody symbol. "It's alright. Just don't do it in front of other people," he murmured.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear readers, since I don't have much time and energy to write at the moment, I will change my update schedule. You will now get a fresh chapter once a month, on every last Wednesday of the month. The next update will be on April 24th.  
> Thank you for your ongoing patience and support!


	15. Chapter 13 - All the Riches in the World

 

 

They hastily put their clothes back on and returned to the camp; neither of them wanted Julanar to come look for them and find them in a compromising situation. Although Shanar suspected that Julanar had already realized the true nature of their relationship, he surely didn't want to be caught in the middle of it. And he surely didn't want to talk about it, either - especially not when he himself wasn't sure about their relationship anymore. Arevan seemed to be unsure, as well, his former resolve vanishing with the last droplets of water drying in the warm air. Shanar had never really thought about what would happen if his duties to the Prince would turn someday into something far more intimate. As long as it had been only touching and kissing, he could think of it as nothing more than another body service, like washing Arevan's hair. It hadn't been about his pleasure, only about fulfilling a young man's basic needs. But this... This had been different. Because Shanar had wanted it as well. Maybe it had been just the aftereffects of the fight, but it didn't change the fact that Shanar had felt, for the first time, a true connection. He had looked into Arevan's eyes, had called him by his given name; Not as a slave who didn't have much choice, but as a man of his own free will. And this was what scared Shanar the most, because he must never, ever forget that Arevan and he could never be equals. After their return and, hopefully, Arevan's successful reclamation of the throne, Shanar would work off the remaining seasons of his contract and then leave the palace in the hopes of finding good work elsewhere. Arevan would marry a foreign princess and forget about Shanar. This was how things were.

Julanar had already dissected the seskra and started roasting the meat over a huge fire when they returned. She didn't say anything, for which Shanar was grateful. He took an the task of helping her, not able to look Arevan into his eyes. Arevan just sat down next to the fire and started to sharpen his sword.

 

Preparing the seskra meal took the rest of the day, but Julanar insisted on traveling a bit further down the river before they made camp for the night since the seskra's blood might attract other potentially dangerous creatures. Although the day had been long and exhausting, it took Shanar a while to fall asleep. So much had happened in such a short time, and he felt a bit lost. As he turned around to find a more comfortable position on the ground, he encountered a pair of very awake, very familiar eyes staring at him. Arevan was lying only a foot away from him, obviously unable to sleep as well.

Shanar took a quick look toward Julanar, but she had cocooned herself in her cloak and was facing away from them. When Shanar turned back, Arevan had already maneuvered himself closer to him. He nuzzled his head against Shanar's chest and put an arm around his waist. The he closed his eyes again. The familiar, fresh scent of Arevan's hair, still present after days of hard travel and no access to a decent bath, finally lulled Shanar to sleep as well.

 

~>*<~

 

The next days passed without incident. The weather was steady, and since no hunting was necessary due to their huge new food supply, they could travel most of the day. In the evenings, Shanar asked Julanar more about her people, their customs, and language. Although Arevan still pretended to be disgusted by it, Shanar caught him listening intently. One evening, after a particularly fascinating story about the Sand Children's fighting rituals, Arevan suddenly asked, "Why are you telling us all of this, woman?"

Julanar looked at him. "Because Shanar has a right to know."

"And what about me? Your people are my enemies. After I've returned to the Al'Menara and reclaimed my throne, I'll have the advantage over your people. I now know that they are no monsters. My soldiers will fight twice as hard to kill them all if they knew that they are facing mortal men."

"My Prince, what you do with this knowledge is your decision. But you should act wisely."

Arevan scoffed. "Don't tell me what to do! I'll do what's best for my people!"

"Would they even believe you?" Julanar's eyes were piercing as a predator bird's in the firelight. "We fooled your people for hundreds of rainy-seasons. Do you really think you are the first one to know the truth? But those who knew never talked about it or were taken as mad."

"I'm not just anybody, but the rightful Sovereign of Al'Menara!" Arevan was truly angry now. "I'll tell everybody the truth, and then we come back and kill all of you!"

Shanar felt a chill run down his spine. "And will you kill me as well?" he asked softly.

"What?" Arevan stared at him. "I'm talking about those savages who killed my father and countless others! You two should want revenge as well - they destroyed Shir'Murad!"

"And what about those like me?" Shanar replied. "Let's say the people of Al'Menara believe you. When they realize that those like me - Mehan'Murad - are half Sessera, they will kill us all! Those are a few hundred - peaceful, hard-working citizens of your city and  your subjects. Do you want a massacre on your conscience?"

"Of course not, I..." Arevan's angry gaze softened a bit. "I haven't thought about it." He stayed silent for a moment before he continued, "Maybe it's not such a good idea to tell everybody. I have to think this over."

Shanar and Julanar kept their silence.

 

The twin suns were slowly sinking toward the horizon a few days later when they finally spotted the ruins of Shir'Murad. The once high towers looked like the broken teeth of a dead animal against the red sky. "Let's hurry," Julanar said. "We can reach it before it's dark."

The closer they got, the more huge and ominous the city looked. It wasn't as big as Al'Menara, but after weeks of traveling though nothing but sand dunes, the first sights of civilization looked even more impressing. Julanar pointed toward the five most prominent towers, crowning the palace and temples of the four gods. After almost thirty rainy-seasons of neglect, the city was completely covered with sand; smaller houses had been buried completely. Led by Julanar, Shanar and Arevan crossed the ruined city, imagining how it might have looked back in the days of Lord Jergan. A bustling market full of merchants selling their wares, elegant houses with equally elegant inhabitants, children running around and playing, a huge fountain where the women met and gossiped, Sand Children and Mehan'Shari peacefully side by side. 

A world long gone. 

They finally reached the remains of the palace. The sand storms had polished away any signs of the huge fires the noalsera had set, but also any paintings and decorations. The staircase leading toward the main entrance was invisible beneath the sand, but since the intruders had broken down the door by force, there was a large hole in the wall to admit entrance.

It was dusty and a lot cooler inside, with the last of the sunslight streaming through broken windows. The entrance hall was mostly covered in sand as well, but the further they went, the more intact the rooms were. Shanar was eerily reminded of the palace in Al'Menara. Would it look just like this in case the city was ever conquered and destroyed? Most likely.

Arevan seemed to have similar thoughts since he looked uneasy as well. "There are still valuable things in here," he noticed. "Why didn't the noalsera take them?"

"My people don't care much for your luxuries," Julanar explained. "And the noalsera hate everything the mehan'shari make. They rather destroy than take it."

"Could the palace vaults still be intact?" Arevan asked. "We might be needing money for our fight."

Hearing this, Shanar realized that Arevan was truly making plans now. Just storming into the palace and challenging Ghajadin would not work. They needed allies, and maybe some of them needed to be bribed. Arevan had never been in a situation where he had needed money, but now was clearly the time.

"I know where they are located," Julanar replied. "The noalsera surely haven't taken anything. But let's go to the throne room first to find the sword."

They followed endless corridors and hallways, all silent as a grave - and a grave it was. Here and there, the bleached bones of unfortunate former inhabitants showed beneath the dust. Finally, beyond a splintered door, they found the throne room. It was very similar to the one in Al'Menara, complete with a throne at the end of it. The floor was strewn with rusty weapons, broken pieces of armor, tattered cloth and more bones. Lord Jergan's soldiers had fought bravely. Half leaning over the throne was another corpse, clothed in the remains of a richly embroidered cloak. Next to him, on the flow lay another, decked in armor. The remains of a golden emblem told them that he had been the commander. Shanar felt a strange chill run down his spine as Julanar knelt down next to the commander and gently touched his head. Shanar came close and could now see the remains of hair on the skull. Black as Julanar's. 

"Is that...?" he couldn't speak.

Julanar looked up at him and nodded. "There was no time to properly burn him," she said softly. "He hid the sword in his last moments. I helped him; that's how I know."

Shanar fell to his knees as well, looking at the remains of Gilbadr Jen Mohan, his father. Never in a thousand rainy-seasons had he imagined finding him at last. There was no face left, but one bony finger still held a beautiful gold ring with tiny jewels.Carefully, his own fingers trembling, he took it and regarded it more closely. There were four familiar symbols engraved, each decorated with a gem: A blue star, a green wave, a red flame, and a yellow sun, representing the four gods. 

"We don't believe in your gods," Julanar murmured. "But it was a gift from Lord Jergan, and Gilbadr always wore it proudly as a sign of his loyalty. I had no right to take it. But it's yours now."

Shanar nodded, tears stinging at his eyes, as he put the ring on. Now he had something tangible to remember his father by. 

Julanar kept quiet for a moment, murmuring something in her language that sounded like a prayer, before she gently pushed away the bony hands to reveal a compartment in the stone floor right behind the throne. From it, she pulled a sword in surprisingly good shape, safe for the broken tip. With a reverent gesture, he held it out to Arevan.

He took it and studied it closely. " Hold me, and you hold everything ," he read the engravings. " Lose me, and you loose ... The rest is missing. Where is the tip?"

"The noalsera chieftain took it with him as a trophy," Julanar told him. "We can't get it back."

"And what use is a broken sword?" Arevan asked, attaching the sword to his belt. "We have to get it to a trustworthy smith, and even then Ghajadin might not believe it to be the real one."

"We have to try," Shanar reminded him. "All that matters is that we have it now. Ghajadin can't get it." He stood up and looked at Julanar. "Can you show us the vaults? I don't want to stay in this tomb a moment longer than necessary. " He looked down at his father's corpse again and then pulled out a flint-stone from his belongings. With a few, quick strokes, he had set fire to Lord Jergan's cloak. It consumed the Sovereign of Shir'Murad and his trusted commander in no time. With a quick prayer to the gods to give those two brave souls peace at last, Shanar followed Julanar and Arevan out of the throne room.

 

After an endless flight of stairs, broken and treacherous, they reached another door, this one still intact and closed. The locks, however, had rusted away, so they could push it open with their combined strength. Shanar felt a bit like the hero in one of his ballads who found a secret treasure in the desert, protected by a magic creature coming out of an oil lamp that granted three wishes. But this was no tale. In front of them, golden coins and jewels were neatly stacked to little mounts. 

"With this, I could buy an army, if necessary," Arevan whispered in awe. "I never thought that Shir'Murad was this rich a city." He stepped closer and grabbed one of the glittering jewels. "We can't take all the gold, but the jewels... And we can come back later to get it all..."

Shanar took a deep breath. "We should only take what we need. This treasure doesn't belong to us."

"What?" Arevan turned around. "We found it! And there is no one left to claim it."

"It belonged to Lord Jergan, and now his rightful heir, Ghajadin. Even more, it belongs to the people who fled the city. If we take it, we should spend it to help them."

"We? This isn't your money or your decision, Shanar!" Arevan growled. "I need this to take my throne back. Why are you against it all of a sudden?"

"Because I didn't think it to be this much," Shanar replied. "Your Highness, you've been living all your life among riches, never thinking about it. I've been living all my life thinking about nothing but money. I wish I could take even one of those tiny jewels and give it to my family. My sister could buy gold-embroidered dresses and fresh meat for the rest of her life. I could also buy my freedom with it. But it doesn't feel right. It feels like stealing from the dead. Like robbing a grave." He gently put a hand on Arevan's shoulder. "Do you remember that old song I sang to you, about all the riches in the world?"

 

All the riches in the world

Can't make you a happy man

Because you can't buy happiness

No one ever can

 

All the riches in the world 

Can't buy you love and friend

Because you can't buy hearts and souls

No one can in the end

 

All the riches in the world

Can't buy you paradise

Because you can't buy divine grace

No one can pay its price

 

There was silence for a moment. Shanar felt the burning at his throat, felt the warmth of it spreading through his arms and fingers, warming Arevan's shoulder. He had used the pendant again, and this time, it hadn't been by accident. 

Slowly, Arevan dropped the diamond he held.

"I guess you're right," he murmured. "I'll take 200 goldsuns and three small gems, not more."

"Good." Shanar helped him gather the amounts, and then they left, pushing the door closed behind them. Silently, Shanar prayed to the gods to let the vault sink into the sand quickly so that no one would ever get it. And he also silently asked for forgiveness for once again having influenced Arevan with the magic of his pendant.

 

They spent the night in one of the ruined houses, far away from the palace. Still, it felt like sleeping in a grave, and Shanar almost expected the ghosts of all the lost souls to haunt them. They had gotten what they had come for, so tomorrow, they would start their journey back to Al'Menara. 

Back home. 

Shanar was glad to have seen the lost city, but this wasn't his home. Rebuilding it was madness, and Ghajadin had to be stopped, or this tragedy would only repeat itself. If there ever was to be peace between the Sand Children and the Mehan'shari, it had to come in a different way. Shanar thought about all the mixed children like him. There had been so much love between both people, and, one day, it might be again. But back then, the people of Shir'Murad hadn't known that the strangers among them were their enemies. Or had they? Shanar would never know. But he knew that if there would ever be true peace, it had to be without deception. Both sides had to face each other and lay down their weapons. Could Arevan ever overcome the grief of his father's death and make peace? 

Maybe, one day. But not yet. And first, they had to get Al'Menara back before thinking about changing the world.

Shanar almost laughed. "We", indeed. There was no "we". Arevan was to be the new ruler, making his own decisions. Shanar silently vowed to never use the pendant again, no matter what happened. It was too selfish to influence Arevan this way. If Shanar ever truly wanted to be free again, he had to free Arevan as well. Carefully, he pulled the pendant from his neck and put it into his pocket.

 

 

 


	16. Chapter 14 - The Enemy

The next morning, they started even more early than usual; neither of them wanted to stay in the ruins of Shir'Murad longer than necessary. The silvery moons were still high in the sky when the broken towers of the lost city finally vanished beneath the horizon. 

Shanar felt a strange sense of completion upon leaving. He knew that he would never come back, and for all he cared, Shir'Murad could sink into the sands for good. Dwelling in the past was never a good idea; Ghajadin's desperate, albeit successful takeover was proof of it. If he would have just let go of the past, none of this would have happened. How many people had died? And how much would it cost to get the throne back for Arevan? This was something Shanar didn't want to think about right now. They had to take one step at a time.

Arevan was silent as well, and Shanar could almost sense that he was thinking about the same things. From time to time, he would grasp the hilt of the old sword as if to remind himself of their achievement.

Julanar, on the contrary, kept a watchful eye all the time. She would stop here and there to look around, taste the wind and study the wandering of the suns through the sky. Her face, usually betraying nothing in its sternness, became worried by noon. "There is a sandstorm coming," she finally broke the silence. "We have to find good shelter and stay very close to the river. I have seen people getting lost and dying in a sandstorm only a few feet away from water."

This was bad news. Shanar could see no sign of a change in the weather, but he didn't doubt her words for an instant. 

"What kind of shelter?" Arevan asked. "Should we build a tent from these little palm trees?"

Julanar shook her head. "We need rocks. I think there are some further down the river."

Despite the blazing heat of noon, they continued on faster now. The wind was picking up speed now, the little grains stinging their faces and getting into their eyes. Finally, Julanar pointed toward a small formation of rocks a few feet away from the river. They were roughly about a man's height, forming a natural triangle. If they huddled closely together, they would be protected from three sides. With the help of some smaller palm trees and branches, they built a makeshift tent to close up the open side of the rocks. They barely managed to keep hold of the branches as the storm got stronger by the moment. Already, the sky was a hazy brown, with no sign of the blue sky left. 

The air was stifling inside their little hideout, but at least they were safe. They listened a while to the howling wind until Shanar asked, "Since we have never been outside the city, we have no feeling for how long a sandstorm can last. When do you think we can continue on?"

Julanar shrugged. "Tomorrow morning, if we are lucky. We have enough food and water to last longer, but we have to be careful so that the sand doesn't build up too high around us."

Shanar could feel Arevan shudder next to him. "How can your people live like that?" he muttered. 

"Once upon a time, your people lived like that, as well," Julanar reminded him. "Or do you think your big cities were already there? My folk just prefers to live in huts and tents and move around."

After that, there was silence again while Julanar busied herself with making the promised necklace for Shanar out of the seskra's teeth.

 

~>*<~

 

The sandstorm continued on through the night, but the three travelers fell asleep nevertheless. The closeness of their accommodation was a good excuse for Arevan to lean himself against Shanar, as usual, and it was almost cozy except for the howling of the wind outside. It finally dyed down in what seemed to be the early hours of the morning. Julanar dared to peak through the branches. 

"It's safe now," she said. 

Together, they dug themselves out; the sand had been gathered a foot high around the entrance. They blinked in the bright morning light, feeling a bit disoriented after the unnatural darkness of their shelter. As Julanar had predicted, the landscape had changed during the storm. The river was still flowing like it used to be, however, and they washed their hands and faces in the cool stream before eating a few pieces of meat, refilling their waterskins and then continuing on. They had barely managed to leave the rock formation out of sight, however, when Julanar stopped again in alarm, staring out into the desert. 

"What is it?" Shanar asked.

"There are some riders coming," she whispered. "They have spotted us already, so there is no use hiding."

"Riders? Where?" Arevan shadowed his eyes with his hands, staring into the direction as well. "And what kind of mounts do they have?"

Shanar didn't see anything either.

"They are riding hessan. Do not flinch when they approach us, lower your heads and don't react. As I told you, I will explain to them that we are on a spiritual journey. Our young men do this sometimes under the guidance of an elder and travel to places holy to us." 

Shanar and Arevan pulled their hoods over their heads, lowering their gaze. There was still nothing remarkable to see, but Shanar could feel a very light tremor in the ground. He would have loved to look up and see the Sand Children approach, but he didn't dare to. Finally, there was a dull banging sound of something heavy galloping towards them, and the strange, loud breathing of animals.

Under the cover of their long sleeves, Arevan grabbed Shanar's hand.

A male voice suddenly shouted something in a strange language. Shanar could now see two sets of huge paws coming to a halt right in front of them. As one animal lowered its head, he could see that it was a huge predator with sharp teeth in a long muzzle. The fur was sand-colored, so the animal was almost invisible against the backdrop of the desert. Golden, slit-pupiled eyes stared at him for a moment. 

Julanar took a few steps forward and answered the man, which provoked another question. Shanar longed to understand what they were talking about, but at least the man's words didn't sound hostile. Then the other rider spoke, and to his great surprise, it was a female. Finally, the riders seemed satisfied and turned their mounts. Julanar gently nudged Arevan and Shanar to follow her.

"They are from the Nashar clan which lives north of here, by the river. They used to be friendly with my clan, the Khitor, although we lived very far apart," she whispered to them hastily. "They have a little hunting camp nearby and take us to it."

"That's too dangerous!", Arevan hissed. "They'll notice that something is wrong for sure!"

"Those are the rules of hospitality," Julanar replied hastily. "If we do not comply, then we are surely making ourselves suspicious. They might kill us on the spot."

With that argument in mind, Arevan and Shanar followed her and the riders.

 

They didn't have to go far. Behind a vast sand dune, there were four small leather tents as well as two more hessan. Shanar wondered why they weren't staying closer to the river, but out here, they were by far harder to spot. The male rider whistled, and two Sand Children emerged from the tents. They were wearing sand-colored cloaks covering them from head to toe. Shanar had expected them to wear their fearsome armor, but this was a hunting party and not a war camp. What ever they were hunting, they relied on stealth.

The riders dismounted, and Shanar could finally see their faces. The man was tall and a few rainy-seasons older than himself, his features proud and stern. His black hair was adorned with various beads and feathers as he pulled back his hood. The woman was a bit younger, her hair cut short at the chin and braided into thousands of little beads. She wasn't a stunning beauty like Sharistani, but her features were as agelessly proud and clear as Julanar's. The other two were a youth roughly about Arevan's age and an older man with silver streaks in his richly adorned hair. Shanar guessed that the hairstyle indicated the status among the clan since the youth barely sported a handful of beads in his single long braid.

There was another long discussion between the riders and the two men at the camp before everyone sat down. Shanar and Arevan blindly followed Julanar's example as she took a bowl of water from their hosts and took a sip. After that, a piece of hard bread was offered which was politely nibbled on.

Shanar noticed that the boy was staring at them, but the older man, presumably his father, slapped him at the back of his head and barked something at him. The boy lowered his gaze. Obviously, it was considered rude to stare at strangers among the Sand Children as well. 

There was no way to speak to Julanar in private here, so Shanar and Arevan just sat there, desperately hoping that their disguise would not be seen through. Julanar was still talking to the male rider who had first addressed them, presumably their leader. Shanar could make out the word "khitor" a few times. They seemed to be talking about Julanar's - and Shanar's - clan that had been scattered so long ago. Julanar grew more agitated with every word, but it wasn't anger or fear, but disbelief and finally, joy. Suddenly, tears streaked down her weathered cheeks. 

Shanar couldn't stand it any longer and reached out to touch her arm to console her. Unfortunately, it was his left hand that was covered with the various tattoos showing his status among Al'Menaran citizens.

The leader immediately noticed. He growled a question at Julanar, and then quickly grabbed Shanar's hood and pulled it down. Shanar had no time to pull away as the man grabbed him by his neck and looked at it. Shanar realized with horror that he was searching for the Khitor clan marking Julanar sported on her neck - and of course couldn't find anything.

"Let go of him!" Eyes blazing, Arevan shot forward and grabbed the leader's arm, pulling his sword with his other hand. Shanar managed to reach out to him. "No, don't!"

Among much angry shouting, both were thrown onto the ground, weapons taken away. As the leader took the rusty half of Murad's sword, Arevan once again tried to stop him. The leader knocked him down again, looking at the broken weapon in confusion.

Julanar was frantically talking to him, presumably somehow trying to explain and keeping the Sand Children from killing them.

Shanar, face pushed into the warm sand, silently prayed to the four gods, hoping against all hope that they would escape with their lives intact. There were more heated words as Julanar continued. Now Shanar could hear the words "Shir'Murad", "noalsera" and "seskra" used a few times. He was roughly pulled upward a moment later as the leader stared at him intently. He pulled the little necklace with the seskra teeth from under Shanar's shirt and looked at it, barking another question at Julanar. She just nodded.

Miraculously, he let go of Shanar and gave an order to the older hunter who held Arevan down. He was let go, as well. There was more agitated talking before Julanar spoke, using the mehan'shari language. "This is Mogar Jen Agr, leader of the Nashar tribe. I had to tell him the truth about you two. He lets both of you live because I told him of the seskra hunt that made you both true hunters. The strict rules of the clan dictate that no hunter is to be killed without a fair fight or trial. He wanted to know what we are doing out here, and he thinks that there is honor in our mission. He is a sworn enemy to the mehan'shari and will not tolerate any expeditions to reclaim Shir'Murad. If your swear a solemn oath never to reveal the truth about the Sand Children and keep Ghajadin and his troops from journeying out here again, he will let you go."

"Of course we will. But what about you?" Shanar asked. "You started to cry when he mentioned something about your clan!"

"He told me... That some of the khitor have survived. They found a new home further north. Their leader is Arcaz Jen Bakr... My son," she whispered. "For half a lifetime, I thought he had been killed along with my husband, but he survived."

Shanar could barely believe it. "Then you must go and find him!"

"Are you crazy?" Arevan shouted. "Our life hangs on the line here, and you are concerned about a barbarian family reunion?"

"Yes, I am!" Shanar shot back. "Remember how you felt when you learned that your sister is still alive?" He looked at Mogar Jen Adr. "Julanar, please tell him that we swear by everything holy to us that we agree to his conditions and are grateful for his generosity."

Julanar translated his words, and Mogar nodded grimly before answering.

"He says that he sees you're speaking the truth. And he has something for his Highness. A long time ago, his clan defeated the noalsera, and he took a trophy from their leader."

Mogar took up his wooden spear, covered with little trophies made of claw, feathers, and stones, and dislodged the tip. It was an old, rusty sword tip, the word "everything" still visibly engraved on it.

Arevan stared at it in disbelief, then he did something Arevan had never seen him done all those rainy-seasons: he bowed. "Julanar, please tell him that I'm very grateful for this gift. I'll use the sword to challenge Ghajadin and keep our people out of this desert forever. I swear this by my name and by my legacy as rightful ruler of Al'Menara."

There was an ominous silence after Julanar had translated his words, then Mogar gave a strange sound. It took Shanar and Arevan few moment to realize that he was laughing. Then he held both pieces of the sword out to Arevan, who took them carefully. Mogar said something to Julanar.

"He says that he likes you. If there are people with such honor among the mehan'shari, then maybe, one day, with war will end. We have to go now."

Scrambling out to their feet, Shanar and Arevan followed Julanar back to the river, feeling the wary gazes of the Sand Children in their backs.

 

They dared to rest again long after noon. Arevan was still clutching the two pieces of the sword as if he still couldn't believe it. Shanar was barely believing it himself, but he now knew that somehow, the gods were watching over them. This was fate. How else had it been possible that in this vast desert, they had met the one person in possession of the missing sword tip? And there was something else nagging at the back of his mind...

"Julanar, did Mogar really say that his people defeated the noalsera?"

She nodded. "Yes. The noalsera were a danger to every other clan and had to be stopped."

"Did he say when, exactly?"

Arevan stopped. "Shanar, what are you up to?"

Julanar thought of this. "He said that they were defeated a handful of rainy-seasons after the destruction of the Shir'Murad. They hunted them all down."

"A handful? Five rainy-seasons? Your Highness, it was said that your father was killed by noalsera constantly attacking the city for ages. If they had been destroyed so long ago, how could they attack the city?"

"What do you mean? One sessera is a bad as the other! Those we met might have been honorable people, but the others are savages! I don't care which clan they were or if their armor was red or black! They killed my father!"

Shanar didn't reply. He knew it was no use, but he felt that he was up to something. 

 

As the suns started setting over the horizon, Julanar stopped again.

"You know the way back," she said. "Just follow the river and be careful."

"You're going back to them, right?" Shanar asked. 

She nodded. "I have to find my son and the rest of my clan. There is nothing left for me in Al'Menara."

Shanar went to her and hugged her. "Be careful," he murmured. "And thank you for everything... aunt."

"This is madness!" Arevan shouted. !You'll never get there on your own! And what about us? You can't just leave us here! I'm still your sovereign and I oder you to lead us back to the city!"

Julanar smiled tightly. "Your Highness, you have yet to earn that title. I'm a free Child of the Sand again and no slave anymore - or even one of your subjects. I wish upon you the guidance of the Stars, and I ask of you not to forget who your real enemy is."

"I know my enemies - Ghajadin and your people! Well, go then!" The turned around.

"I know what you mean," Shanar said softly. "And I will remember it. May your and my gods watch over you. I hope to see you again one day and meet your family."

"We will see each other again," she promised. "And don't give up, my boy. Don't ever give up."

Then she turned away and slowly, but steadily walked back in the direction where they had met the Sand Children. Shanar looked after her for a moment before he caught up with Arevan. His face was grim, and he didn't say a word, just clutching the old sword in his fist.

Silently, Shanar vowed never to forget what Julanar had said. Neither Ghajadin nor the Sand Children were Arevan's true enemies. The only enemy he truly had was Arevan himself - his pride, his anger, his selfishness and and his still very childish possessiveness. Although this journey had somewhat matured him, he was still not ready to be a true ruler.

Shanar fingered the amulet still tucked away in his pocket. If he could just...

No. If Arevan didn't fight his worst enemy on his own, he would never truly win. 

 

 

 


	17. Chapter 15 - Truths

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delayed update!

The days passed in an exhausted blur. Shanar and Arevan talked little during walking to save their strength, and were too tired in the evenings. They slept side by side, Arevan's head on Shanar's shoulder as usual, but nothing else happened. But the bone-deep tiredness wasn't just due to the hard travel, but stemmed from a general fear of returning to the city. They had found the sword, but how would they get into the palace to challenge Ghajadin? How would they rally any supporters? And how would they free Liyel? The whole adventure to find the sword had been so strange that somehow, both of them hadn't truly believed to be successful. But now, there was a far more dangerous and difficult goal ahead. Now, they knew what would happen if they failed, and they wouldn't just risk their own lives.  
One day, just before dusk, the outlines of Al'Menara appeared at the horizon. Its bright spires seemed like an illusion, but the vision didn't vanish as they drew closer.   
"Let's wait until it's dark," Shanar suggested, and Arevan nodded. He regarded the two parts of the old sword, as he had done often enough during the last days. "Do you think a weapon smith can put it back together without destroying the inscription?" he asked.  
"I'm no expert, but I think that a strong blade must be forged from one piece. He might be able to put the two pieces back together, but the blade will break easily. You can't fight with it. It's just a symbol of Murad's leadership."  
Arevan nodded again. "I thought so as well. And I won't trust anything in a fight than my own sword. I've never seen Ghajadin fight, however. He must have learned it, as everybody does in this city, but he doesn't seem the type to be a good fighter."  
"Looks can be very deceiving," Shanar warned him. "And Ghajadin is no brainless, harmless little palace boy. I'm sure he is an able fighter. And if now, he has taken measures to compensate for it."  
"You seem to know how he thinks," Arevan remarked, brows drawn together like storm clouds. "What did he tell you, all these rainy-seasons ago?"  
"Nothing in detail, truly, but..." Shanar stopped, trying to put his feelings into proper words. "Somehow, I can relate to him. We... We have a lot in common. Our whole lives, we lived in the shadow of a shameful memory, trying to get past our heritage. We were always judged by our looks. Ghajadin's idea of trying to get Shir'Murad back is insane, but he is not. He's intelligent and ruthless, planned carefully and was successful. We mustn't underestimate him."  
Arevan looked at him in surprise. "You are nothing like him," he stated. "Ghajadin only thinks of himself. But you... you are a good person."   
The brown color on his face didn't prevent Shanar from seeing Arevan blush at his own words, and he smiled. "Thank you. But it doesn't change the fact that I can somewhat understand him. And if I were him and knew my enemies were still alive, I would take precautions. I think we have to get your sister to safety first."  
Arevan's face darkened again. "Do you think he will use her as a hostage to prevent me from fighting him?"  
"As I said, if I were him, I would do it. And..." He paused, suddenly realizing something terrible. "I would also take the family of my enemy's closest confidante into custody. You Highness, I'm sure that my own family is in danger as well. Once we get back to the city, I have to send them a message."  
Arevan nodded grimly. "That's a good idea. I hate to think that your sisters and brothers are in danger because of me. And we have to free Liyel first, you're right. The question is: whom can we still trust? Master Asnam, for sure, but who else?"  
"Maybe Lieutenant Di'Uzra. He was acting Commander of the narif'adir for the time that Yahezid and Ghajadin were gone. He... helped me out a long time ago and seemed like a loyal and honest man."  
"But the narif'adir are under Ghajadin's command. They chased us, remember?"  
"There are hundreds of narif'adir. I don't think that Ghajadin blackmailed or bribed them all. But I'd trust Master Asnam's opinion in that matter."  
Arevan just nodded and, once gain, stared at the broken sword pieces as if his mere gaze could forge them together again.

Once the suns had set, Shanar and Arevan continued on their way. Three of the moons were full and bright in the sky, illuminating their path. Just like on their way out, they closed in on the wall about half a mile from the city so that the guards wouldn't see them come. As they had almost reached the huge stone wall, Arevan suddenly stopped and signed Shanar to get down. Both crouched down next to a little sand dune.   
"What is it?" Shanar whispered.  
"There are people in front of us, right next to the wall," Arevan whispered back.   
Carefully, Shanar peeked over the dune to assess the situation for himself. There were man-sized shadows moving a couple of dozen steps ahead of them.  
"It must be more Sand Children," he told Arevan. "Maybe they're planning another attack. We have to warn the guards without getting ourselves in danger."  
"I've only seen two or three of them," Arevan replied. "We can fight them on our own! We can't risk them seeing us getting though the wall via the river gate." He took another look. "I was right, it's only two men! They must be scouts. Come on! Yo attack from the left, I come from the right. They won't have a chance!"  
"Wait!" Shanar wanted to shout, but he didn't dare to raise his voice as Arevan was already gone. "This is such a bad idea", he murmured to himself as he readied his bow and sword. He spotted Arevan slowly getting closer to the men and followed their strategy, positioning himself on the left behind another dune. He pulled an arrow from his quiver and aimed at the figure closest to him. Just as Arevan darted forward to surprise the men, Shanar let the arrow fly. The man next to him cried out in surprise, but he had been standing in a bad angle so that the arrow had just hit his arm. He quickly broke the shaft, pulled his sword and stormed toward Shanar.  
As he came closer, Shanar could see that he was wearing black noalsera armor, but something seemed wrong. As he parried the sword attack with his own, he realized three things: one, the man attacking him used a standard Al'Menaran sword worn by the narif'adir. Two, he wasn't wearing the fearsome sessera helmet made of a seskra skull. And three, he was no Sand Child.  
"By Adir, it's you!" the man spat in perfect city dialect. "The Prince's little slave! This time, you have no one to help you out!"  
Shanar immediately recognized that voice. he was one of the very soldiers that had attacked Shanar in the deserted, nightly corridors of the palace so many rainy-seasons ago. His snarling, derisive voice as he had told his companion about molesting Sharistani had burned itself into Shanar very core. With an angry cry, he launched himself forward. The many rainy-seasons of hard training now payed off; although he was by no means as strongly built as his opponent, agility and tactics made up for it. Together with the righteous fury in his heart, he managed to push the soldier back a few feet, then used a special move to disarm him. Them an fell backwards into the sand. Panting heavily, Shanar held the tip of his blade against the man's throat.  
"Wait!" It was Arevan."Don't kill him. We have to get some information from him."  
"What about the other one?" Shanar asked.  
"I killed him," Arevan replied. In his hand, he still clutched his bloodied sword, and his eyes blazed. "Those are narif'adir soldiers. We need to know what they are doing out here, disguised as sessera!"  
The man on the ground laughed. "Stupid little prince, do you really think I'll tell you anything?"  
"No, but you will tell me!" Shanar raised his sword slightly so that its tip pointed at the man's right eye. "You have the choice, traitor: either you get a swift death or I'll poke your eyes out and feed you to the seskra lurking at the river's edge!"  
Tense moments passed as Shanar stared into the man's soulless dark eyes, feeling as resolved as never before in his life.  
"Fine, you win. It's as easy as that: we've been playing sessera for a long time now, a few men and me."  
"Since when?" Arevan demanded to know.  
"Long enough for one of us to throw a black spear at Prince Haruf," the man replied with a mean laugh. "You were just a bawling little child then, Prince."  
"On whose order did you do all this?" Shanar's blade almost touched the man's face now.  
Another laugh. "You are really stupid. We serve our Sovereign!" And with a movement too swift to react to, the man had pulled a dagger from his belt and slit his own throat. Blood dripped down and was immediately absorbed by the sand.  
Shanar stared down at him, still full of anger. "Damn it!"  
Carefully, Arevan grabbed his hand holding the sword and pushed it down. "I can't believe it," he murmured. "My father... murdered by his own men!"  
"Not his men. Ghajadin's. He must have planned all this far longer than we had thought," Shanar murmured. "I bet that he talked to your father back then about reclaiming Shir'Murad and he refused. Ghajadin needed someone on the Sovereign's throne who supported his plans. And when no one of the rightful heirs was willing to, he decided to become the ruler himself." With a deep breath, He sheathed his sword and turned around to look at Arevan. "I'm so sorry. All this, it started when your father was killed by them."  
"We will avenge him," Arevan murmured. "But there is one, little solace in this: the sessera... The Sand Children, I mean, they spoke the truth. The noalsera are gone. Maybe we don't have to enemies forever."  
"That's indeed a solace." Shanar softly put a hand on Arevan's shoulder. "But you had to kill someone for the first time."  
Arevan didn't even look back to the corpse of the other soldier he had killed. "He was a traitor and would have killed me if I hadn't been quicker. I didn't enjoy it, but it wasn't as terrible as I thought. But you... you seemed to be so angry at that man. I've never seen you like this."  
"I knew him, " Shanar replied. "I never told you about it, since I didn't want to upset you, but he and another soldier assaulted me back at the palace. They talked about having hurt Sharistani, as well. It was Lieutenant Di'Uzra who saved me back then. That's why believe him to be trustworthy."  
"Adir's fire, now I wish I killed that monster myself," Arevan snarled and surprised Shanar by pulling him close and hugging him fiercely. "How... bad was it?" he asked after a moment.  
"Nothing happened. As I said, Di'Uzra as there on time. I got away with a scare. But it was Sharistani I was so upset about. So I'm glad he's dead."

They buried the corpses right in the shadow of the wall and erased all traces of the fight before they continued on their way until they had reached the river gate. Slowly, they crawled down the slippery steps until they reached the spiked grate. Arevan clanked his sword against it  
five times, then three times, as agreed.  
After what seemed like an eternity, old Rajif's voice asked, "Who is it?"  
"The red sunbird, the blue songbird, and the dark desertbird, flying at night to victory.", Arevan re plied with the password. With a creaking nice, the grate opened and the spikes retracted. Down in the darkness, they could now see a lamplight.   
"Are you well?" Rajif shouted as he saw them approached. "Where is Mistress Julanar?"  
"She didn't come back with us," Shanar replied. "It's a long story, but she is well. We need to talk to Priestess Nuriven first thing in the morning."  
"Of course. But you must rest first. Please follow me back upstairs."  
Following Rajif's lantern, they returned to the dark and emptytemple. It was deep at night now, and Shanar felt a bone-deep weariness, coupled with relief. They were safe now - for the moment. After Rajif had brought them back into their rooms, Arevan immediately started to strip off his clothes and scrubbed his face and hands with a wet cloth form the washing basin. Shanar needed a moment to realize it was not only the paint he wanted to wash off, but the blood on his hands.  
"Here, let me." He deftly took the cloth from Arevan and turned his face so that the moonlight fell on it through the high window. Carefully, the scrubbed off the remaining paint with some soap. "We'll wash your hair tomorrow with a special lotion," he said. "It will be back to your usual red in no time." Arevan stood still, letting Shanar works. As Shanar took Arevan's hand, who were of course completely clean, he realized that somehow, Arevan's hands had become bigger than his own. They were calloused from constant training, and slightly cold from the chilly water.   
"I think I told you sometime before I'm old enough to wash my hair by myself," Arevan replied softly.   
"Maybe, but there are some things that I'm still better at," Shanar replied, his words edged with just a little teasing. As he looked up again, Arevan's eyes glowed like molten gold in the moonlight. Their faces moved closer, but at the last movement, Arevan drew back.   
"Let's get some sleep," he said briskly and turned away.

For the rest of the night, Arevan stayed in his own bed.Shanar could only guess what was going on inside Arevan's head, but he suspected that the story about the men attacking Shanar had made him think about his own actions. Maybe had had realized that he had abused Shanar's position as a slave. But the problem was something entirely different: Shanar wasn't so sure that he truly was a victim in this anymore. There had been moments when he had desired Arevan's touch. And tonight, he had wanted to be kissed with all his heart.  
Shanar firmly shoved those thoughts aside. They had no time for this. They could sort out their confused feeling when their war was over.


End file.
